The International Aurors' Society
by leonette20
Summary: While British wizards were celebrating their victory, Americans were counting their losses. To repay them Kingsley Shacklebolt, the new Minister of Magic, decides to present them with a special gift: the convicted Death Eaters. But one of them, an ex-spy for the Order of Phoenix, now beaten into submission by British Aurors, is going to cause them trouble... AU. SS/OC. Dragons!
1. The Convicts

**1. The Convicts.**

Years like fruits, full of sweetness, ripe with good future, were extended before the wizarding population of Great Britain. They won their war with darkness that was threatening to overcome them. They won it with little but substantial help from outside. The fight, soon to be known as the "Battle of Hogwarts" was the most brutal hunting game the wizarding world have seen in the twentieth century. Voldemort called for giants, called for werewolves, called for vampires and they came to do his bidding. British wizards had no chance of defending themselves by their own, even if Voldemort was seriously weakened due to one Harry Potter. His army was numerous and far more dangerous than a bunch of Aurors, civilians and teenage wizards.

So, Kingsley Shacklebolt swallowed his pride and called for a help from outside. And to his amazement the help came. But maybe he shouldn't be so amazed after all. Americans were after all known for their wish to be the nation who maintains peace in the world. Immediately after being called, they arrived: forty battle-trained Aurors followed by the special and not that widely advertised division D3.

D3 was what really made the difference. They were dragons or, to be precise, dragons ridden by the Aurors. Kingsley have heard of course that Americans were experimenting with dragon breeding but he was no wiser that they succeeded in producing domesticated ones. They were strange creatures, smaller than the dragon should be, in fact no bigger than three horses put together and rather hairy too. It made Kingsley wander if those dragons were really dragons at all. But they produced fire all right and for their size they were really ferocious so he supposed their genetics made no difference. They took care of giants all by themselves and killed nearly half of the werevolves.

The forces of good have won, albeit with many loses on their side. And while Islands those days were mostly about happiness and hopefulness, Americans spend the post-war time counting their fallen ones. There were tears, followed by funerals. They have lost seventeen Aurors, five dragons and two dragon riders. Americans decided it was worth it, but anyway they called Great Britain for repayment.

Repayment was mostly about money. But British Ministry of Magic decided it will be more meaningful if they added some personal touch to it. Besides, they just have completed an experiment of their own, one that was supposed to unburden the already too-crowded Azkaban and make Dementors unnecessary for the functioning of the prison. Experiment proved to be successful.

So, they gave Americans the convicts.

* * *

"Here they are, bastards."

A bulky-looking wizard spit on the ground, seeing the 'cargo' loaded down the gangway ladder into the shore. The convicts looked miserable, even more miserable than they probably looked entering that ship a couple of weeks ago. They were painfully thin, dirty rags covering their bodies, the odor coming from them so powerful that the sour companion of the bulky wizard discreetly cast a smell-repelling charm. Their faces expression ranged from hateful through mistrustful to despaired.

"A sorry bunch," snorted the sour wizard. "Luckily we only have to get them through the mountains. Any idea why the British MoM have decided to send them here the Muggle way?"

"Nope. They probably wanted to punish them even more. Or they thought it funny. You never know with the Brits."

One of the crew came to them to have them sign the acceptance documents. He looked like he was slightly sick. He didn't quite look the wizards in the eyes.

"I have no idea what those lot have done to you", he said as a parting comment. "And probably I don't want to know. But we treated them precisely as we were told to, no light, a minimum of food, no facilities. Some of those were sick. Repeatedly. I am still surprised that none of them have died out of dehydration or something. But here they are so I hope you have no complaints."

"None at all," said the sour wizard and shook man's hand.

They walked from the shore, the convicts shuffling laboriously between two wizards. None of them looked like he had even the slightest inclination to escape. They made a semicircle passing the main harbor on their left where big Muggle cargo ships were docked and walking straight into one of huge magazines. It belonged to the American MoM and inside there were wizarding custom officers working, cataloguing the incoming goods and collecting taxes. The noise was nearly unbearable, however it dropped down when the newcomers entered. The bulky wizard was hearing a lot of whispering, mostly hateful, full of words like "Death Eaters", "murderers" and "bastards". He paid no attention to it. It was normal, people were still sensitive about the tragedy that struck their soldiers. The only thing he was asked to ensure was the relative safety of the convicts. So let the people talk.

He ordered them to wash and change clothes. When they were doing that, he took his time studying one of the small magical devices that was provided along with the convicts. It fitted into the palm, was square with some buttons on it and it has a number ascribed to one of the convicts. According to the manual it was supposed to keep him on check if the magical bindings the convict had on him fail. Some amount of pain was probably included. Of course it was probably going to prove unnecessary as the bindings put on the prisoners ensured that their magical core was suppressed up to no-existance. They were hardly any threat at all.

So he called them after they bathed. It didn't make them less miserable but at least less smelly. He looked at them, then. Really looked at them and understood that Brits were brilliant in their own way. Those faces belonged to the most dangerous men on the planet and now they were truly forced into submission. He felt only contempt for them and hatred was what they answered him with. At least most of them. Some were truly broken, but he approved. The face of one was completely blank, devoid of any feeling. This one has irked him a little.

"What is your name, Death Eater?", he snapped looking at the prisoner, thinner and uglier than the rest of them. Black eyes looked at him like he didn't understand the question.

"One thousand, four hundred seventy three", rasped the convict, his voice rusty from lack of use.

"Your NAME, you ruddy bastard!", demanded the wizard.

"Ah, you mean my civil one", said the man impassively. "This will be Severus Snape, but it's of no use anymore. Call me whatever you like, I will have to answer it anyway"

It was the strangest words he ever heard from a prisoner and he wasn't new to this business. The bulky man scowled. He didn't like any complications and he had a feeling that this man was full of them. He suddenly felt an urge to take the bastard up on it and find him some derogatory pet-name, but he decided no. Somehow he had a feeling that if he did this, the prisoner would have the upper hand over him. Absurd as the thought was.

"Clever one, are we, Snape?", he sneered. "Snape… I wonder where I heard this name. I think it was closely connected to some atrocious crime…"

"Don't overexert yourself", said the prisoner. "I killed Albus Dumbledore. You can find it in all the relevant newspapers."

"So you are famous from being the murderer of the greatest wizard of our times? Very smart of you, Snape."

The prisoner just kept staring at him blankly. One of the other smartasses chuckled. It was a truly horrendous sound. It made little hair on the back of bulky wizard neck stand up. And they were harmless! He wandered how frightening it was to face them when they were armed.

"Yess!", said the smartass. "We are not as famous as our dear Severus here. That's why he got most of the attention of our captors, didn't you, Severus?"

"Shut up, Wilkies", said Snape still without any real feeling.

"All of you shut up", said the bulky wizard, deciding he had enough of them all. "You are going on a very long trip through the mountains, up to the very heart of them. It was decided that magical transportation will be wasted on you so you will be doing this on foot. So better prepare…"

"It would be wasted on us? Who said you such rubbish?.", Snape interrupted him. Bulky wizard gave him his most menacing glare but it had no apparent effect on the bloody murderer. "Magic is lethal for us. You could send us by portkey but we would have arrived dead. But if you want to try anyway, it's fine by me."

God help him, the bastard was apparently suicidal as well. He just hoped he won't try anything during his watch. He felt more and more irritated which could have something to do with the fact that Snape was better informed that him.

"We are leaving tomorrow morning", he snapped. " We are going to Leafland. It's a magical village and a base of Auror division. You are supposed to be digging out mud and stones there as they are rebuilding right now. It will be dirty, nasty, heavy work. One that suits the scum like you."

No one have said anything after that. They just stared. Good. Maybe they finally understood what laid ahead of them. The bulky wizard was hoping it will be extremely unpleasant. He bid them good night, thinking it will be the best one they will get in times to come. Tomorrow maybe he will check if the clever magical boxes were functional. Just in case.

* * *

Logically he knew they were trekking through one of the most impressive American national parks and maybe he should be amazed. Something like year ago he would have sneered at the amazement. Now he just felt numb. On the most physical of levels he also was extremely tired, too hot and maybe a tad dehydrated, even if water was the only thing they had plenty of. It fell in cascades, flow in rivulets straight from the rock, appeared and disappeared in the green floor of the forest. Never in his life he saw so much wilderness as here in the very heart of Sierra Nevada.

But he didn't care. When the show of sun setting over the glistening mountain tops started later this day he knew that most people would call it impressive or beautiful. He just rose his tired eyes and stared. He never felt more misplaced. The feeling was eerie, like floating under the water without drowning.

But mostly it was just about numbness. It soaked through him during those long long nights which he didn't care to remember. There have been time for shrieks of outrage, for anger, for demands, for despair. It didn't help his situation, maybe even made all of it worse. At least numbness was manageable. It helped to live, even if it was the life of a looser. The man condemned because of his stupidity.

Sometimes he still looked at the two silver bands. Thin and innocent-looking they were wrapping around his hand and leg like bracelets. But he knew there were no shackles in the whole world, no chains that weighted more. He didn't care to remember how they were put there. Two fools leading the group of prisoners probably had no idea of their true nature. Of the ultimate entrapment they represented.

Yes, it looked like Severus Snape was going to live the rest of his life as a slave.

It will probably be a very short life too. After a couple of days spent travelling by foot through mountains, he felt the permanent exhaustion getting almost too deep to bear. He never was in good physical shape and poor food and even poorer sleep didn't help. It was on trembling legs he greeted Leafland.

There were onlookers, of course. Many of them. Probably half of the village wanted to see the evil Death Eaters turned slaves. They welcomed them as warmly as it could be predicted. As soon as convicts got in the line of sight of the mob the cursing and filthy names calling began followed with a fair amount of spit and other, often rotting, objects. Some villagers wanted to get physical with them but none have risen a wand against them and that made Severus wonder a little. Was it a precaution or a custom? He have heard pretty strange things about those American wizards. It appeared as every wizarding village had a distinct set of laws and at times they were pretty bizzare.

Well, apart from that they behaved exactly as they were supposed to. Superior. Righteously angered. Scornful. They were as easy to hate as British folk and if Severus have still cared, he would have shot at them a biting comment or two. But he didn't so he just walked through indifferent to the abuse; after all it was nothing comparing to what he went through before coming to this strange country. Those nights he didn't care to remember.

They were herded to a place that looked like a stone-pit. There were stone walls in which he could see many shallow caves. On the floor of said stone-pit big heaps of rocks, soil and other elements of lithosphere were stored and between them he could see some Muggle machines. Around them mountains grew and on one of them he could barely discern an outline of complex of buildings. It was already too dark and he was desperate for some sleep, but it seemed that they were not off the leash yet.

Then the bastard who was supposed to order them around have appeared. Severus knew the type. He was muscular with a meaty neck and a round head. His little eyes were looking at them appraisingly and his smile was like a wriggling worm. He probably got a hard-on just thinking about amount of pain he was going to cause them. He was also dangerous because of being too stupid to know where to stop. Severus already felt a little sorry about those of his colleagues who will be reckless enough to cross him.

"I hate you all", said the Bastard. "Tomorrow you are going to understand what work is about. Real work."

* * *

He does not think. He does not feel. Numbness wraps around him like a warm blanket.

He just digs.

A hack clinks against the hardest parts of rock, the power of the hit like an electrical current goes up his arm. The shovel scratches the floor. Gravel crunches under the feet. Sometimes he has to use bare hands. Its stuffy down here, full of air recycled too many times. He is drenched with sweat, covered with mud. Digging. Like a lowest Muggle. Severus Snape would have sooner died than allowed himself to sink so low but the Convict knows there is no way out of here. He brought it upon himself so the only thing left is to suffer the consequences.

So on he digs. Not stopping once to wonder why and for whom they are doing this. After all he knows why they are here, in this place. A couple of days have passed, maybe even two weeks. The Bastard lets them sleep for six hours, they have to work sixteen. His body does not agree with such abuse. He is getting weaker every day, he loses appetite and soon he cannot stomach this dog food they are given.

"Eat it, I can't", he says roughly, showing his bowl in the direction of other Death Eater. His colleague does not hesitate in cleaning it. Severus looks at him apathetically.

Death is knocking at his door. He just knows it.

* * *

"Today we will be taking some fresh air", said the Bastard. "Aurors need a new building near their headquaters and you, my friends, will dig for the foundation. The rock is really hard up there, so it should be fun for you"

The joke was weakest of the weak. The only one smiling was the Bastard. Prisoners looked at him with hatred, especially those who beared signs of his maltreatment – he so loved to use the magical devices provided him by the British MoM.

Snape only shrugged internally and followed him up. The road was long and winding. Before they got to the top he felt like all remaining forces were sucked out of his body. And they haven't even began.

The main building of Auror's Headquaters was standing on a small upland overlooking Leafland. The village from this perspective looked like it was squeezed in between mountains, the valley big enough to fit one main street, the rest of the houses build on the steep hillside. The headquaters were made from the same stone they were so laborously digging out and looked, above all, practical. The building was rather low but at the same time taking up much of the flat space, and three pairs of sliding door leading into the building were huge enough for a full-sized mountain troll to go through without hitting his head. They were closed right now and only a couple of wizards in blue-grey working robes, staff probably, was present.

Severus wasn't given much time to admire the view or to wander about the strange outlook of the headquaters. Not that he was inclined to do it. The shovel was shoved at him and he buried it in the ground. The soil was hard and unyelding here. Half an hour have passed and he already felt like he was to faint at any moment. The sun was biting at his nape, his vision was tunelling and his hands shook slightly. Idly, he wandered what the Bastard would do if he lost consciousness. Probably, he would drop him from the top of some mountain just to see his body breaking on the rocks.

Out of sudden, there was a strangled outcry from one of the prisoners. He looked up from the pitfully small hole he have managed to dig and he saw three long shapes, like arrows, speeding through the air in their direction. Most of his collegues stopped digging and stared.

"What are you gaping at?", snarled the Bastard. "You have already seen our dragons, haven't you? They won't eat you. Probably."

Three shapes turned into slender beasts, two of them green and one marron. Ther was a man on the top of each dragon. The beasts landed gracefully in the middle of the plane few hundred metters from them - or at least the two green ones did so. The marron one looked like it was having some hysterical fit. It snarled a couple of times and shook its right wing. The man that was mounting it jumped down and tried to get to said wing but the dragon will have nothing of it. It snarled again, right into the man's face. The rider looked unfazed by it.

"... getting absurd, Amaranth! It's just some spines, you are not going to be crippled by it! Derek will pull it out in no time... Stop it! I know you don't like Derek but you will survive!", the angered voice of the rider carried to them.

"Oy, Martin!", called one of the staff. "Need some help?"

"Thanks, I will manage... Hey, Amaranth, where the hell you think you are going?"

The dragon obviously just noticed the prisoners and out of sudden he seemed to forgot about the injured wing. Staring at them with an immense curiosity of a wild beast it was quickly approaching. A few jumps and it came within striking distance of them. People around Severus backed off gathering around the Bastard who, to Snape's immense satisfaction, for once looked as frightened as the rest of them. There were hushed whispers or just terrified looks.

Severus stayed just where he was. Even if he cared enough to run, he, for the very first time since arriving here, felt a little spike of curiosity. The beast was at least three heads taller than him and it's teeth looked very sharp but for the moment it didn't look like it was preparing itself for a kill. Huge greenish eyes with vertical pupils stared at him for a long moment and then the dragon's triangular snout came up to his face... and it sniffed at him. Severus felt a sudden dryness in his mounth, his heart quickened. He had no idea how to behave, so he just stood motionless. He remembered very well those beasts tearing viciously at the giants. This one looked... civilized. But to which extent he had no idea. This was a bloody dragon, after all, they were not supposed to be domesticated.

Suddendly it turned it's head and snarled something at the rider who was trying to approach it. The rider stopped and huffed looking offended for some reason. Then the beast stared back at Severus. Out of sudden it stuck out it's right wing to Severus looking a little... expectant?

"He wants you to help him, Death Eater", said the Bastard with a slightly quivering voice. "Better apply yourself to it if you doesn't want your head bitten off."

Severus swallowed convulsively. He was always meticulous with his potions so he could manage it. Or so he told himself. He walked slowly to the right side of the dragon and took the wing in one of his very dirty hands. It was warm under his fingers. He saw cactus pines sticking from it, some of them nearly translucent and barely visible. One by one he began pulling them off. It was slow going, time consuming work and all the time he felt the dragon breathing down his neck. But that was not worse than prepering some of his more dangerous brews. After a while he began to relax. He even smirked a little at hushed whispering behind his back. Cowards, all of them.

"There, I think I pulled out all of it", he said finally, looking at the dragon. The beast shook its wing experimentally and folded it. Then it gave Severus what could be considered a very toothy smile and when Snape thought it was the end of it dragon unexpectedly touched his forehead with the snout.

Out of sudden magic, strange and overpowering, flew through his body. Snape freezed at the unfamiliarity of the feeling. As quick as it started it ended and the dragon was trotting back to his irritated rider. But Severus still felt inexplicably better, like his lost strenght was back.

The things got back to normal very quickly and soon they were digging again, Severus with more vigor he felt for many days past. But it looked like something more shifted in him. The numbness wasn't so overpowering now and next time he noticed he was wandering. Analysing. Like a little of his old self crept back to him.

Dragons. Curious.

* * *

_What the hell was that, Amaranth?_

_I was just curious. They are new people here, and they smell different,_ answered the insufferable beast.

_So you've just decided to frighten the squirming flobberworm out of them?_

_Why do you care? Yo have said they are evil. Killers of our kind._

_You didn't look very disgusted by them. In fact you decided to ask one of them for help. What made you do it, for Merlin's sake?_

_Some of them are evil. Others just miserable. But the one that wasn't frightened interested me. T_he dragon's eyes glittered. _He's not evil, maybe just lost. He smelled of despair... but he also smelled of dragon._

Martin stared at his beast. He couldn't say he understood any of it. Amaranth looked like he was secretly laughing at him.

_He doesn't look like a dragon so what the hell are you talking about?_

_You people are so shallow sometimes. I am talking about him, not his body shape. What do you think when you think: dragon?_

Martin frowned. Sometimes he hated when Amaranth got philosophical with him.

_You mean traits? Fierce. Wild. Loyal to the extreme. Protective. Dangerous when crossed._

_So you know what I mean. He smells of dragon._

_So that's why you asked him for help?_

_No. _The dragon was openly laughing now._ I did it because I know that if somebody is threated with death, he gets very cautious. If I've let Derek pull out those spines, it would mean even more pain that acquiring them. This way it was a lot more comfortable._

_So you used that guy? You swine!_

_What? Swine? I am a dragon! _

_You are a crossbreed with no conscience at all._

_In fact I have more than your lot. I gave him something in return. A small part of my life force. That real swine that is in charge of him probably never noticed, but the guy is one step from death of exhaustion. _

Martin stared at him incredously._ You gave your life force... to a bloody Death Eater?_

The beast grinned again. _I have helped a fellow dragon. Now go away, I need some time for myself._

And like that Martin was kicked out the box of his dragon. Sighing once and again he walked through the stables, greeting fellow Aurors on his way out. The words of Amaranth were ringing through his head... Well no words, more like thoughts and feelings filtered through those parts of Martin's brain that held his knowledge of English. But the feelings were clear. Amaranth strongly disapproved of harsh treatment of Death Eater prisoners and thought at least one of them worth saving.

Of course the dragon was not going to move one paw to do anything about it. He, like all of them, was believing that human problems should be resolved by human means. He was just stating his opinion. The rest was left with Martin and he, a soft-hearted fool that he was, found himself already agreeing with him. Part of it derived from the fact that in the last twenty five years Amaranth was never wrong when it came to the human nature. But mostly it was about Martin mellowness, he supposed. Many of his colleagues had pointed it out to him that he was not hard enough for an Auror. But they were the same people who sneered at his sexual orientation so he just ignored their comments.

So this evening, instead of going to the resteurant with his new lover, he found himself in the village's library, looking through the last year's press, both American and British one. If he was to do anything, first he wanted to get prepared. He was going to get to the bottom of the history of convicted Death Eaters.

* * *

_A/N: This story was in may head for many years now. Now I have decided to put it, as they say, on paper. This is the tale of emotional journey of a group of people whose life was destroyed by the second war with Voldemort. Severus Snape plays the main role but you will be seeing some orginal characters too. Between them starring: american Aurors, american folk and, of course, dragons. Brits will appear causing a lot of mayhem, but, as the story starts in the US, you will have to wait for them a little bit longer. The story is very AU from the point when the battle of Hogwarts starts – well, as in the book it was not very convincing, I've decided to change the story from there. Up to that moment it follows the books to the letter, so yes, Snape was the Headmaster and yes, Harry has found and destroyed Voldemort's Horcruxes._

_I am shamelessly borrowing the dragon riders theme known from so many different fantasy books it's hard to count... Anne McCaffrey being the first lady. So I guess she should be recognised right here as she was the one who put the deliciously wicked idea of joined minds into my head. I'm using it for my nefarious purposes, but the originality of it is definitely hers._

_Anyway I hope that you are going to like my story and show me some of that feeling by leaving reviews. You know I count on you. Leo._


	2. War Stories

**2. War Stories**

**Battle Report**

**Date: 06-JUL-1998**

**Place: Hogwarts Castle, Scotland, GB**

**Author: Jayen Lynch, Senior Officer Auror, D3 Division**

**Read and accepted by Mara Goodwich, President of D3 Division on 28-JUL-1998.**

We were told to land on the top of Elk Mountain, one of the three highest mountains overlooking the Hogwarts Castle from the north. Matheus Donnovan, Daniel Gershaw and me have separated to better appraise the battlefield.

The battle was raging for a day now, from what we have been told and it looked like British MoM was loosing it. We came as quickly as possible using the dragon-portkeying but now we weren't sure if there was anything to be done. The whole ground between the castle and the forest was empty except for bodies scattered on the grass and half of the forest was burned to the ground. The castle looked like its defenses has been breeched at least once – two of its walls were crumbling and there were also heaps of dead bodies at its entrance. But someone has managed to put up the defenses again because the only activity we were able to see was a numerous group of enemies trying to get into the castle and failing, the flashes of rebounding spells seen even from our place.

Our forces were still waiting in the mountain area, watching for an order to attack. But the enemy didn't wait. Suddenly there was an uproar and what we estimated to be at least two-third Voldemort's forces has fallen on us like a hawk on its prey.

There were giants, werewolves and a fair number of Death Eaters on brooms. My guess is they were expecting us and decided to engage us in a battle right there as to give them more time to completely break the Hogwarts protections.

Engage we did and it went pretty chaotic from that moment. While most of our forces, regular Aurors and dragon Aurors were fighting for their lives, we were given an order from General to try to approach the castle.

A dozen of Death Eaters on brooms have closed upon us. They were difficult targets, small and quick moving, shooting at us from every side. But it was obvious they have never fought with dragons and we took out half of them before they have realized that dragons, unlike brooms, have claws and breath magical fire.

I think we grew a little too self-confident at that and that was why we lost Daniel. He and Ashla were too focused on baiting two of Death Eaters to come close and they have never noticed a third one that came from above. He shot a Killing Curse which hit Daniel square in the chest. Ashla got confused for a couple of moments and started flying in circles, obviously trying to check on Daniel who was still striped to her back. But it didn't take her too long to realize what have happened and then she went berserk. I have never seen her behave like that and we asked our dragons to try to calm her but she will have none of it – she chased two of Death Eaters to the mountains and the next time we saw her she was being held in place by powerful binding spells cast by our field colleagues.

We continued with our mission and soon we were engaged with the enemy attacking the castle. Team 6 have joined our forces and together we quickly dispersed of a couple of giants that were here. Answering the question of President Goodwich, no, the giants posed no real threat to us. They are too slow to guard themselves from our attacks and while most of our battle spells were not able to get through their thick skin, dragon magical fire worked just well against them. When the flames hit the giant's head it burned like a torch. Quickly we got rid of them. Death Eaters were more difficult to fight, but in that moment the remaining British forces came out from the castle and helped us. It took no more than half an hour to win our fight. We have asked for Voldemort but it seemed that he stayed with the main forces in the mountains. Their Aurors told us that Harry Potter headed there half a day ago with an intent to kill him.

Team 6 have joined the main battle, as well as most of the British Aurors. Our team was told to wait at the castle, keeping an eye on the Hogwarts students who, to our horror and amazement, apparently also took their part in the battle. There were wounded and killed between their numbers.

The battle raged for a couple of hours more, until all the Death Eaters and Voldemort monsters were either dead or caught. Voldemort was killed by Harry Potter. I don't know the details but it appears that for some reason the Dark Wizard grew overconfident too.

Many of ours took part in the celebration that came next. We did not. We took immediately to US, taking the still tied-up Ashla with us. It will be up to our superiors what to do with her, but if I'm allowed to give my opinion, she is in no condition to work again. She is completely broken by Daniel's death, a sentiment that is shared by both of us. I think the best thing to do will be to let her fly.

* * *

**_POTTER DID IT AGAIN_**

**_By Rita Skeeter_**

_Our esteemed hero managed to once again get the upper hand over his arch-enemy. And seeing as the result of the meeting was deadly for You-Know-Who, we can safely say that was the ultimate one._

_It was a surprising turn of events and all around, suspicious. Mr Potter again failed to be killed by You-Know-Who even if everyone at the beginning believed his death. We saw his mourning friends, between them one Hermione Granger who was obviously hard-hit by his demise, shrieking, wailing and tearing at her considerably bushy hair. It is well known that there was a romantic interest between them and she was obviously taking on the loss of her lover. His Giant friend, one Rubeus Hagrid, was carrying the body of fallen Harry Potter to the Hogwarts and screaming obscenities at You-Know-Who and his followers. The spirit fell in the remaining Hogwart survivors when they saw their hero dead._

_But he refused to stay dead for much longer. Like a true hero he has risen from the ashes and declared a no-surrender. The event of Harry Potter surviving yet another Killing Curse is getting a little weary round the edge. But we cannot stop ourselves from tackling into the mystery of his continuous survival. Why did it happen? Was You-Know-Who a stupid and overall incompetent wizard who cannot curse properly? Were there some mysterious forces preventing the spell from working? Or is it all one big fake, a plot to make us all believe that Mr. Potter is invincible?_

_"How did you survive?", asked the Dark Wizard with something akin to cold fury, facing the newly resurrected Harry Potter. Poor thing, we would have said if he wasn't the most feared person in the Islands. He was so obviously confused._

_Then Potter have started on a long diatribe about how naïve You-Know-Who was to think that he was the more clever of the pair. He carried on with a long and frankly boring explanation about how the wand You-Know-Who possessed, which was supposed to be the strongest wand known to humanity (a ridiculous notion, are we living inside a fairy tale? ) did not recognize him as the rightful master because… Well your author got a little lost here about who killed whom and in which order but obviously it had something to do with Severus Snape not being the first to have a go at Albus Dumbledore. In short, You-Know-Who totally screwed it up and Potter survived because of Dark Wizard's malfunctioning wand._

_Fine, we say, even if very lame, this might have been the cause. Wands sometimes fail and spells does not work properly. Of course, we have never heard about any famous Dark Wizard failing to perform correctly such a basic curse. But even then, why would Potter intentionally walk into a death trap? Even if he suspected that he may survive, how was it possible that he was so sure of himself? And even more interesting, what he wanted to gain by doing it?_

_"Remember his second year in Hogwarts?", said Draco Malfoy, Potter's peer, exonerated Death Eater and a clandestine worker for Good. "He had that special connection with Dark Lord even then. He could speak with snakes and have opened the Chamber of Secrets. People thought then that he was evil. Maybe people were at least partially right. I saw him talk to the Dark Lord. He was not afraid, none at all. I guess there existed some special connection between them. Some kind of mind-link. Maybe Potter knew what the Dark Lord was thinking."_

_Colin Creevey, one of Potter's friends, seconds this opinion by admitting: "I always felt that he was not an open person. He was hiding something and it was big." Answering your author's question: "Connection to You-Know-Who? Not sure about it. Harry is a true hero, if he felt his mind being close to that of this evil wizard… Sounds really terrible! Yeah, I guess… I guess he might have searched death then."_

_Proffesor Slughorn, Hogwart's Potion Master, laughed at that. "He was a clever boy, Harry Potter! I wouldn't be surprised if he all the time was leading the Dark Lord by the nose. My guess is he knew all along what will have to happen for us to win the war! Don't ask me how he knew! Connection to the Dark Lord? Impossible! He plotted it all with Albus Dumbledore, mark my words!"_

_So, there might have been a connection between our Hero and the arch-villain. But what was its nature? Was it possible that Harry Potter was so desperate to get rid of it to risk his life? Or maybe the very nature of this connection prevented him from dying?_

_What is sure, our hero is not the person we think him to be. We sincerely hope he explains himself. We are, after all, so sick of mysteries._

* * *

**A CLEVER PUNISHMENT**

**By Lucia Greengrass**

Our Ministry of Magic have dealt with the troublesome matter of imprisoned Death Eaters. To put them in Hinches and make them repay the atrocities they committed by hard, ungrateful work was a truly brilliant move. But society has its doubts ant they are not unfounded.

Many of us during the last months were wandering if the wrongdoers are again to be chucked into a prison guarded by Dementors. Many of us thought that way as dangerous to the society – after all not once and not even twice the same wizards found their way around Azkaban security and merrily went on the rampage. And we were fed up with Ministry's reassurances that the Dementors are doing a good job at keeping them in.

Now our allegiance with those dark creatures that have chosen to side with You-Know-Who has reached its end. And good riddance to them. We had enough evidence that they were no good, enough causalities to prove that such creatures cannot be tamed.

Those days even Azkaban proves unnecessary. All thanks to ingenious magical trinkets devised by the always-so-mysterious Unspeakables.

They were working at those for many years now. Combining magic and Muggle inventions they developed bindings that at the same time are suppressing the wizard's magic and drawing from it to kep him subdued. So, in short, the wrongdoers magic is working against him when he tries to step out of line, like trying to escape or attempting to harm the other person.

Those are the Hinches. And to alleviate any fear that our readers might feel, we asked about them one of their inventors, Arthur Lameduck.

"It's nothing too oppressive. Just two small rings of metal, like bracelets. Putting them on might be quite painful, especially if the prisoner's magic is strong because it is fighting against the Hinches, but no fear, we are doing it in whole-body anaesthesia. After that they might feel a little light-headed and lost, but it passes quickly. They can perform absolutely no magic. When the time of imprisonment is up it's relatively easy to take them off, too. They only have to come to us, as any unlicensed trial of removing them will have grave consequences."

Prisoners seem to be content with the change. "Finally, I feel alive", said Rufus Bernt (charged with 10 years in Azkaban for selling Dark Items). "Dementors are gone. Those bracelets are nothing compared. And no, I don't miss my magic. It was useless against them, anyway."

* * *

_**Excerpt from Readers' Letters section of "Wizards Today":**_

_**Author: nameless**_

_I am the wife of one of the Death Eaters who were sold into slavery. There is no other word to describe it. I know that my husband may seem an evil beast and even I knew he wasn't the nicest person. But it does not mean he is to be treated like the animal._

_He was caught with the others and kept in Ministry dungeons. There was a short trial from what I was informed. I do not believe it. I was never allowed to visit him, none of us, relatives, was. When I demanded an explanation from one of those big-headed Aurors, he sneered at me and said that they had to be 'tamed' first. He provided no further details._

_I caught a glimpse of him only on the last day before they were shipped out to another continent. He looked catatonic. There was nothing human left in that face. I've tried to come closer but the Aurors stopped me._

_Only the next day Daily Prophet have printed the article about what an asset to the humanity they became. How what they did to them made the existence of prisons unnecessary. A smart piece of magic that rendered them harmless, a dab of arthimancy and spellcraft that turned them into obedient dependant creatures… Slaves in short._

_I think it's too cruel punishment even for a Death Eater. Maybe I'm alone. I hope that I am not._

* * *

_Dear 'Daily Prophet',_

_No, I will be not discussing my involvement in war with you or any other journals. If you have questions, ask Dumbledore's portrait. I am sure he will be more cooperative._

_Yes, I am starting the Auror's training._

_No, I will not share with you my opinion about Albus Dumbledore._

_Nor about Severus Snape._

_Or any other person you would like to ask me about._

_Yes, I will be shortly marrying Ginevra Weasley._

_Yes, I believe the punishment was adequate for Death Eaters._

_Good day to you all,_

_Harry Potter_

* * *

_A/N: Well, here goes a little of back up story. Those are the parts known to wide public, so they may seem overly light... But darker ones are ahead of us._

_If you read the story and liked it, please leave the review! Any questions will be answered._

_Leo._


	3. A Death Warrant

**3. A Death Warrant**

"No rest for the wicked."

"None, apparently."

A hollow laugh reverberated through the wooden barrack. It mixed with the racket of thunders coming from outside. The weather got mad, it seemed. Severus should have been prepared as he in fact lived in mountain area for twenty years. But the castle walls were thick and blocked out much of noise. The one he was experiencing right now felt nearly unbearable, it was hitting the very center of his soul so it trembled along with feeble walls of their shelter.

It was ridiculous to fear the thunderstorm, he knew. He admonished himself for it but to no avail. The fear was there, deep and primitive. He was a defenseless animal waiting curled up in some bloody dump, waiting for the day his predators find him. They will come for him, he just knew it.

Once upon a time he had dignity. But it was taken from him during those long nights he didn't care to remember. It was taken along with his magic and any manner of defending himself from the assault. Really, he forgot he had any up to the day no more than two weeks ago when dragon's magic have touched his soul.

That thing happening was both good and bad for him, he realized. Bad because it prolonged his agony and because since then the Bastard, probably ashamed of his juvenile reaction, started venting his anger on Severus. Snape was guessing that he also noticed that soon his prisoner will be of no use and decided to exploit him to the maximum. Snape has been given the hardest works like hacking solid stone or removing full loads of debris.

The magic that have given him powers to do it kept him functioning but now his forces were waning. Magic, even dragon magic, has its limits and everything it could do it have done. More and more often Severus was unable to continue the given work. Then he was being punished by the Bastard and even if it brought no results the Bastard's face lit every time he was seeing Severus writhing on the floor.

It was already going on too long, thought Severus grimly. One huge part of him wished intensely to be dead and done with it. But there was also the other one who was just too stubborn for its own good. Something within dragon magic have woken it up and now it was barring its claws and hissing angrily at Severus to _'Move his lazy ass and do something!'_ This part, this irrational, ugly and highly successful in keeping him alive in the past bit of his mind was keeping him awake in the nights. Not agreeing to the abuse it was watching and observing and wishing for an occasion to come.

But when there were times when it was integrated into his personality, now it seemed like some evil pixie has taken its residence in Severus brain. Because the rest of him knew that there was no escape from this trap. The rest of him was quivering on the floor, half-dead already with terror.

What a miserable way to go.

* * *

Martin have decided that there was no way he was getting any truth from the press. It was mostly about wild accusations. Bah, any editor that is trying to disparage their own hero must surely be mad. If that was the respect and admiration that Harry Potter was getting, Death Eaters were sure to be portrayed as evil slime and nothing more.

In any case he found some interesting tidbits of information in the articles. Like there was no proper trial of accused Death Eaters. In opinion of his government such proceeding was crucial when dealing with atrocious crimes because public was never satisfied other way. But it seemed that the British MoM have done the same mistake as before, chucking them into prison basing on the sole accusation of being the Voldemort's followers. Only this time they put Death Eaters in the Hinches and sent them away to US.

And the trial of Severus Snape might have been quite exciting to say the least. During the first war he was accused of being a Death Eater, but was freed from accusations by no one else than Albus Dumbledore. During the second war he was seemingly playing a role of double agent and no one really know for which team he really was cheering until the day he killed Albus Dumbledore.

Then the hell broke loose and they branded him the worst bastard in the whole universe. In the last year of the war he was nominated to the post of Hogwart's Headmaster by Voldemort himself. During his watch the school was turned into the Dark Arts academy. Then he fought in the Battle of Hogwarts, where he was caught by the Ministry Aurors. No doubt whatsoever was raised about his allegiance.

It was all very convincing, even to Martin. If not for the opinion of his dragon he would have also called Snape evil and be done with it. But now he wandered and every day was getting more curious. Even if Snape really worshipped Voldemort there had to be much more to that story. Even if his crimes warranted the punishment he was given, he deserved at least someone to listen to his version of what has happened. With this thing in mind Martin one day, no more than two weeks after he saw him for the first time, decided to approach Snape directly.

He walked down the east side of mountain, where he knew the new system of corridors was being caved. It was meant eventually to become the new dragons' quarters to accommodate the growing number of them. Dragons normally didn't sleep in human buildings and since long they were complaining about lack of space and irritating bursts of occasional magic. That was the main problem, really. Dragon magic and wizard magic didn't mix well. The beasts could stand the battle spells being thrown near them as their effects were short-timed but they just couldn't bear any regular magic being used around their living quarters. They were saying it gives them unpleasant sensations like constant buzzing in the ears or itching of skin and disturbs their sleep.

That was the main reason the caves were being done. And without use of any spells, of course. This tedious work was left to the outside company, now reinforced by the Death Eater prisoners. They labored day and night so the new dragon quarters could be opened next spring.

An uneven path took turns left and right, going down the steep hillside. Martin could have Apparated, of course, but he preferred to walk. Soon he saw the stone-pit. From this altitude it looked like some monster have taken a huge bite of the mountain. Leviathan could have managed it, but they were no longer showing in that part of country. In any case that precise stone pit was purely man-made. Huge Muggle machines could be seen from here, biting into rock. Around them a dozen of people were busy transporting debris, digging, constructing. Even more of them he knew was working inside the caves which entrances were puncturing the opposite hillside. Descending he thought it won't be easy to find Snape here without raising too much suspicion.

He decided to be blunt about it. Like any citizen he had right to be curious about Death Eaters in the town. As an Auror he had even more right to take interest. After all they could be still a threat to the society, better to check on them. With that thought in mind he walked purposefully in between the workers who were in turn raising their heads and eyeing him with mistrust. A presence of an Auror in their minds always signified trouble. Someone caught on doing something illegal. Martin was paying them no attention, intent on finding a guy in charge.

And he found him near one of huge heaps of debris. The man had a face of a common criminal, cruel and indifferent at the same time. His dull, watery eyes were focused on someone laying on the ground. He was so completely absorbed in some small Muggle-like contraption he never saw Martin approaching. And Martin in turn felt all his previous thoughts fleeing from his mind. It seemed that he have found them both. Only, Snape seemed unconscious. Or dead.

"Move, you son of a whore!", snarled the man, pushing some button. Whatever it was supposed to do, it took no effect on the prisoner. He was still face down in dirt, his face deathly pale with a greyish tinge around the mouth.

"I have to say that this looks like severe misconduct toward a prisoner", said Martin softly. "Back away."

The man jumped. His eyes bulged out, making him look even more stupid.

"Er- Er- Officer, sir! I've wanted to- to revive him, sir! He must have got a concussion... or something."

"Revive him? That is what this thing does?", asked Martin, pointing to the little box held by the man.

"More or less", said the man, shrugging. "It was provided to us by the British MoM with instructions to use when necessary, sir." His voice grew defensive. When the element of surprise has worn off, it was obvious that the man thought he was doing nothing wrong.

Martin have said nothing. He kneeled in the dirt and turned Snape on his back. The prisoner looked ghastly and Martin for the first time understood what Amaranth have meant by "close to death". At least Snape was still breathing. Martin felt anger building. Something was quite obviously wrong here.

"It is not a concussion. It is making a man to work himself into the ground. You will be facing an inquiry very soon, my friend. Now, give me that contraption you are holding."

The man scowled but obeyed. He looked annoyed.

"As you wish, officer. But your boss won't be asking. No one cares one whit about those prisoners."

"We will see about it."

Martin grabbed Snape's hand. It was so thin it looked nearly skeletal and it was caked in dirt. The offending wart that was supposed to be the guy in charge muttered something.

"What? I didn't quite hear."

"I was saying that magical transportation may kill him. The Hinches doesn't like it."

Great. So now he had to march all the way up levitating the unconscious body. His day was just growing more and more interesting. He raised his wand for a levitation spell. So damn it. He was not leaving Snape here.

* * *

"A prisoner? I can't remember any of them coming for a checkup", said Remmy, one of the two Healers employed in the Headquaters. He was a true professional and kindness was radiating from him and both that features should have made him a highly regarded Healer. But his always slightly-worried expression made his patient mistrustful about his skills so he ended up here, where sturdy Aurors were more tolerant than a majority of wizarding population.

He also never showed any stronger emotion. Up to now anyway, because Martin was seeing something strange happening to that easy-going man.

It started after he run a few diagnostic spells over Snape. Strange light appeared in his eyes. He poured some potion down the prisoner's throat and it took an immediate effect. Only, Martin was quite sure it was not one the Healer aimed for. Snape wheezed, retched violently and vomited the substance all over the bedcovers. Remmy cursed under his breath, a thing Martin have never heard him doing before, and run some more spells intercepted with even more cursing. He was getting quite red on the face at the end of his proceedings.

"Blast it all, turn that thing off, Martin!", snarled the exasperated Healer.

"What thing?", asked the Auror, shocked to the core by the behavior of his colleague.

"The thing that makes all the potions useless! That thing sucks out all his magic! Potions has nothing to work with. Remove it now!"

"Ah, you mean the Hinches? I am afraid it cannot be done. To take them off you will need British Unspeakables."

"You mean you have no means to deactivate it? One day, I ask of nothing more."

"I've got this thing." Martin pulled out an innocent-looking box. "I doubt it was devised to turn off the Hinches. But I will ask at the Headquaters anyway."

"It better does that.", said Remmy grimly. His face turned serious and there was that feeling in his voice. It was the same feeling that burned in Martin so he recognized it immediately. Anger. "I am not sure I will be able to save him without potions. He is one wink from dying out of exhaustion, Martin. I warn you I will be reporting this. I don't care a whit for the games you and British MoM are playing. That have gotten too dirty, Martin."

"I am not the part of it! I just found out a couple of days ago. I don't like it too, that is why I decided to act."

"Good.", said Remmy shortly, turning back to his patient. "Now go. I have much work to do if I am to heal him... Merlin help us all, by Muggle means..."

* * *

Severus was gradually resurfacing. It felt like his body was buried in the bottom of a muddy river and the dirty waters were sloshing over him, washing out the mud until he was able to see the light. It was at the beginning dimmed by two meters of water above his head but it was getting brighter every second until it burned his retinas... The wand-light. No some eerie glow that was supposed to welcome him after death but mundane blueish light of a Lumos spell.

So he wasn't dead yet. What a pity.

He hoped it to be quick because, in all honesty, he had enough of pain. He didn't care for more torture like the one the Bastard was generously offering him. It wasn't worse than Cruciatus so at the beginning the stubborn part of him was fighting against loosing consciousness but at the end he lost.

He seemed to be always loosing those days.

But he was still miraculously alive. So, because he was never a coward he decided to face the reality. He expected to see the Bastard's face hovering above his, annoyed and impatient. But what he saw was an unknown man with a soft face that kind of reminded him of Neville Longbottom. The man was looking into his half-opened eyes with a studious expression. Severus stared at him. The man smiled a very longbottomish smile which made Severus quiver inside with annoyance.

"Welcome in the land of living, Mr. Snape", he said. "I'm Remmy Torrent, resident Healer. You were in a bad shape when you get here yesterday. Your body wasn't used to that much strain and you overworked yourself."

Severus snorted feebly. "You say it like I had any choice", he said hoarsely. His voice was weak and unused. "Face it, Mr. Healer. I am a prisoner. It is not like they are coddling us."

"No, I believe they were doing just the reverse thing, weren't they? I suppose that they not quite familiarized themselves with the Human Rights Card?"

Severus tried to shrug but his body felt like it weighted a couple of tons. "That Muggle thing, you mean? Our Ministry was never paying that much attention to weird Muggle laws. They believe that every method of subduing a Death Eater is acceptable." He smirked. This conversation was getting quite funny. "Don't get too flustered about it. I am sure the majority of your society would agree that better a dead Death Eater than a free one. You see, we are as Dark as it gets. I, for one, betrayed a great amount of people and killed some of them. You surely understand 'an eye for an eye' law? That is the one our community is based upon. I believe yours too."

"Our country, unlike yours, observes the Human Rights Card.", said the Healer. "And you, whatever you did, are also a human being. I believe some people will be facing an inquiry quite soon, no mater what is your opinion about all of this."

"Merlin, help us all, you are really a bloody Gryffindor, you know?", said Severus with disdain. "There will be no inquiry, believe me. Our countries value their friendship too much to risk it for a bloody Death Eater. And if you believe US to be so merciful that only proves you are a fool. Don't tell me you have no knowledge of your own history. That you have never heard about the Revolution of Cauldrons in the eighties and what they did to the riotous traders. That you have never heard about the wizard's participation in the Vietnam war."

"We learn from our mistakes.", said the Healer shortly. Now he looked mildly annoyed. "And I believe that in few short sentences you managed to insult me at least twice. Now I am starting to see why no one wanted to help you before. You are lucky that I have a strong moral fiber or I also wouldn't be arsed to do that."

Severus snorted. He wanted to say that no society have ever learned from its mistakes but he decided that enough was enough. His Longbottom-Gryffindor Healer might actually take the offense and storm off in righteous anger and allies was not something Severus had in abundance. So he stopped himself from voicing any more acerbic comments. "How did you manage to heal me?", he asked, changing the topic. "The Hinches does not allow for the usage of potions and most of healing spells. How did you do it?"

"Luck and more than a little help of Muggle means. I've managed to modify a couple of spells that are used for wizards suffering from magical drainage and fed you to a lot of Muggle drugs by intravenous route. I keep them in stock just in case, you have to be prepared for virtually everything if you are working for Aurors. Your body took its own healing from there. You are regenerating pretty quickly because of the residues of dragon magic that you still have in you. They are pretty tough beasts and can even grow back small parts of their bodies. It's actually kind of fascinating, I can't say I have ever seen dragon magic working on human."

"Why?", Severus asked. "You have plenty of them up here."

"Yes but their magic clashes badly with ours. That's why their future quarters are done Muggle way. As your magic is virtually nonexistent the dragon magic was free to work. You are quite an unusual case."

Severus stared at him. Curious was not even beginning to describe a feeling that was slowly creeping into him. He was always an inquisitive sort of person. And here was something definitely worth investigating. So what if he was a bloody slave with his fate already sealed. He knew that boredom was worse than an imminent death. And his mind, rusty from unuse, was heartily agreing to academical challenge.

"Do you have any books on dragons?"

* * *

To say that Martin feared that meeting was an understatement. To see that Death Eater face to face, to hear what he had to say... That situation had the potential to get bad in so many ways. The man was a criminal, a murderer and at the same time was a victim of an abuse that was outlawed in US. What would he say? How would he behave? And, finally, what will Martin think at the end of all this? His thoughts were a turmoil. He never participated in such morally dubious thing. So with a trepidation he went into the hospital area of the Headquaters.

Remmy greeted him. He said that the prisoner was doing well and in a week or so will be released. He said that this day will be the happiest in his life. Martin asked what has happened and he was given an information that a 'difference of opinions' was too big between them two so Remmy generally avoided excess talking with the prisoner. He looked disgruntled saying this.

Remmy have shown him the way to a small private room and Martin entered. The first thing he saw was Snape, looking decidedly more healthy, sprawled on the bed with a thick volume in his hand. Martin felt his eyes drawn to the Hinches glittering on prisoner's ankle and wrist and he felt himself shiver. Blasted thing. Snape noticed the newcomer and sat up, looking at him with sudden interest. Martin cleared his throat and pulled out his hand. It was grasped by the prisoner's thin one. The dark eyes were intent on Martin's face and he felt himself momentarily disconcerted by the intense look.

"Martin Scoresee, Senior Officer Auror. Nice to meet you Mr. Snape.", he presented himself. "I brought you here."

"Severus Snape, an exclusive prisoner of the British Ministry of Magic. Nice to meet you too, Officer Scoresee." The man smirked. "Shall I understand that you took pity in my miserable condition and decided to save me from my fate?"

"Yes, you should." Martin stared at him challengingly. He was already understanding why Remmy didn't like Snape. He was an easy-going person who didn't like subtexts. And this man looked like he was secretly sneering at everything, even at himself.

"Then I suppose I should thank you for saving my life... this time." Again that intense stare. Martin wondered what was going on behind those eyes. "And your dragon, for the time before. For whatever good it will do to me."

Martin blinked. "Believe me, If I put that much effort into keeping you away from death, I intend to not let you waste it in the nearest time."

Snape snorted. "Beautifully. And tell me, how do you plan to stop _them_?"

"Them? Whom could you possibly mean?"

"Don't be a fool, Officer. I am sure you understand how this world works. I mean British Ministry of Magic. They send us here for a reason. I am sure you can contrive their reason."

"Possibly but I would like to hear it from you." In truth Martin wasn't that sure what Snape could mean. The prisoners were given, or rather borrowed because being the British citizen they still belonged to British MoM, as a kind of war retribution. At last that was the official version.

"If you wish so." Snape's face grew deadly serious. " Our Ministry is a bunch of cowards, the greatest of them being Kingsley Shacklebolt, our Minister of Magic. They were afraid of us. We were by then closed up but we still had support within British society, our relatives and those who still believed in Voldemort's ideology. The upcoming trials were expected to be downright messy and the Ministry was also afraid that some of us may escape it's clutches like Lucius Malfoy and his family already did. And then they found a solution, a brilliant one. They announced to the public that every man bearing a Death Eater mark will be sent away to serve the US citizens for the time of ten years. They called it rehabilitation. By lucky coincidence at the nearly same time the Unspeakables have announced their last invention, the Hinches, ready for testing. And so we were sent here. What the public did not now, however, was that they simply meant to rid themselves off the problem that we became. We are not supposed to survive those ten years, Officer . The sooner we are out of the picture, the better to them. It's like galleys, only wizard type. Me, particularly, they have no wish to see again. I knew Kingsley Shacklebolt and I believe he is particularly adamant about not letting me go back to Great Britain. So how do you plan opposing them, Officer Scoresee?"

Martin wondered. This made a perfect sense to him, even if it was a dirty business. But just when the governments have played fair? Well, in any way he won't be sitting idly waiting for things to happen. Especially those that obviously shouldn't be happening. That was, after all, the reason he became an Auror.

"In a week I will be back to that hellhole", said Snape gloomily when Martin kept being silent. "Then I would like to see you stopping the Bastard..."

"Maybe I haven't got any real standing within the British MoM", Martin interrupted him. "But be assured that in this place I am the person to be reckoned with. I am the senior Auror and you don't get much higher than that. So you will not be going back there. I have already discussed your precarious state of health with President Goodwich and we decided that you are in no condition to bear such a workload. You will be moved here, to the Headquaters. You will be doing a menial work. Merlin knows that our regular staff could use some help with some mundane tasks as they have to be done without magic. Also, your boss will change and Bartolomeus Chang is a man you can trust to be fair."

"Chinese?", Snape rose his eyebrow. "I have heard that name before. One of my ex-students."

"Half-half. His family is numerous, it is quite possible that some of them live in Britain too. So how do you like your new accommodation?"

Snape blinked. "I suppose I should be grateful.", he said slowly. "After all I didn't count on surviving the next month. I still don't understand what have motivated you to help me, but I am grateful anyway. Even if it means I will be cleaning stables for the foreseeable future."

Martin grinned. "Hey I have said nothing about dragon dung!"

"Seriously." Snape rolled his eyes. "What type of menial work could you possibly mean?"

Martin snorted. He felt he was already starting to like that strange guy. Funny, thinking that he knew virtually nothing about him. Well, he knew that the man was a criminal. That brought into a question...

"Why your Minister hates you so?"

"He has a bone to pick with me. Several ones in fact. Its irrelevant, anyway." Snape closed his mouth and stared hard at Martin, obviously refusing to go into the details.

"Oh well." Martin rolled his eyes in exasperation. "As you wish. But I should say to you that if you won't share things that may help you, you won't be helped."

Snape stared at the ceiling. "Nothing in my life is redeemable", he said in hard tones. Martin wasn't sure if Snape was informing him about his final decision or trying to convince himself. Well, if he thought Martin was going to stop at that, he was sorely mistaken.

"Well then", said Martin. "I suppose I should leave you to your reading. Have a good day Mr. Snape."

"And you too, Officer. Thank you again for delaying my death warrant. What a strange thing...", Snape mused, his eyes glittering oddly. Martin frowned because out of sudden he felt being scrutinized. He didn't care for the feeling. "You are gay, aren't you?"

Martin bit his tongue to not reply with a scathing comment. "How do you know? And what does it have to do with anything?"

"I am an observant person, Officer Scoresee." The prisoner smirked. Martin forced himself to stay calm. " I can also see that it is a touchy subject with you. And to answer your second question: I am still searching for motives."

Martin stared. And then laughed.

"That was the best one I've heard", he said after a moment. "No, Mr. Snape, I most definitely does not hold a torch for you. You are not my type, sorry to say."

Snape, to his amazement, snorted. He didn't look much offended. " I am hardly anyone's type, Officer. But still I am wondering why you seem to appear so often in my life. My previous employer was gay too. He has wrecked a havoc in my life. I would like you to desist from doing the same."

Martin shrugged. "I don't think it has anything to do with a sexual orientation. Rather, it is out of a sense of duty. Good day again, Mr. Snape."

"Oh dear. Sense of duty? I think I would have preferred love."

Martin heard those parting words when he was closing the door. He decided to not answer. Because really what do you say to such an admission? He knew one thing for sure. That man, was he evil or not, was seriously fucked up.

* * *

_Reviews warmly welcomed._


	4. The Ones Left Behind

**4. The Ones Left Behind**

Every night since the death of her brother she lighted up a candle on a windowsill. It was a symbolic gesture, one born from hope that the lost soul of a man that passed away in the foreign land will return to its home one day. The light was supposed to guide him and show him that there were still people waiting for him, people who cared. Diana stared at the flame burning brightly against the stark darkness of the night and thought how it was reflecting her own feelings. Despair was not something she ever thought she would experience, she thought herself far too down-to-earth for such romanticism. But here it was, unmovable and all-embracing making every day difficult to face. There was also emptiness of such depth that she felt like she was existing in a void. And in all that darkness of her soul the flame of anger was burning. She wanted to hurt somebody really badly.

Her friend told her that it was normal for a grieving person to experience those feelings but she was sure there was far more to it than simple hurt. She and Daniel were twins and the magical bond was always strong between them. Diana was often aware of his feelings and his thoughts and could at times feel the magic he was casting. When he became a dragon rider she could even hear Ashla talking despite them never having a direct bond. This one was an experience she cherished and it was to her great dismay when she found out she could understand her no more.

And she tried, oh how she tried! Ashla was probably the only creature that mourned the loss of Daniel even more than her. Diana wanted to console her but every attempt at communication was failing. Ashla simply looked at her apathetically and after a couple of days she started to answer with angry fits. Then Diana understood that the dragon wanted to be left alone so she, with a heavy heart, pulled out.

It was terrifying to look at such a beautiful, agile, full of life creature now devoid of any will to continue her existence. Diana was sure that Ashla wanted to end her life like most of dragons who lost their riders did – flying away and drowning in the sea. But human interests clashed with the dragon's, as per usual. It was decided during the Board meeting that before finishing with herself she was obliged to provide an offspring. That was due to the fact that she was a magnificent dragon, excellent on the battlefield, quick-learning and exceptionally well-behaved so D3 division wanted to preserve a little of her abilities by the means of her progeny. What Ashla thought of that all no one knew.

What Diana thought of that all everyone have already heard, and more than once. But she too wasn't able to change the Board's decision. So she seethed with anger every time she saw a Board member and they were already avoiding her like a plague.

Well, they weren't able to avoid her indefinitely, she thought with no small amount of dark satisfaction leaving the candle burning on the windowsill and grabbing her bag on her way out. She was after all the owner of the only proper bar in the town and if one didn't want to spend their evenings in a dirty rat-hole that Seven Socks was, waiting to be killed with the next bottle of piss that passed for beer in that establishment, well, they better swallow their pride and come to her.

With this happy little thought she entered into her realm. It was only a couple of houses away from her home. The building was spacious, made of wood designed to resemble a mountain cabin. Its name "Gershaw's Inn" was carved into a wooden signboard hanging over a double-doored entrance. Once inside she felt the familiar smells of burning birch logs, meat being cooked and tobacco. People she saw every day were greeting her with respect, even two guys who lurked in the corners obviously intent on drinking themselves into a stupor raised their hands in acknowledgment. She responded with smiles, as per usual. Here she was at least known as Diana Gershaw, the owner, not as 'the sister of the fallen hero'. She knew that this was how people spoke of her on the street. Well, people probably were right as her brother not only was a dragon rider, he pretty quickly became the best one D3 Division ever had. She felt pride mixed with no small amount of annoyance when his fellows spoke highly of him. The only thing she succeeded in was inheriting this establishment from her late uncle and managing it since then.

Daniel used to jest that she was more heroic than him by keeping that dump from collapsing. She disagreed. Yes, it was a hard work making the ends meet until she managed to turn the unkempt bar into a well-prospering business but it was a mundane sort of everyday struggle. It had no glamour and no danger of chasing after Dark wizards or smugglers. She always felt so normal. Now she was even worse: normal and alone.

On her way to the back of the counter she spotted one of the members of the Board, Martin Scoresee. He was apparently entertaining a new boyfriend who looked even more disgusting than the previous one. Honestly, she had no idea where he was digging them out but it spoke for his lack of good taste. This specimen looked like he had a serious personality disorder. His skin tight leather trousers were leaving very little to the imagination and his half-unbuttoned satin blouse showed a great portion of hairless chest. He had a boyish hairstyle with long bangs falling into his eyes which in turn were framed heavily with coal and mascara. And his nails were painted pink, for fuck's sake! In Diana's opinion he should be murdered immediately for putting the whole gay population to ridicule. But, as he was still alive, he might be of some use. She will happily cut that bastard Scoresee down to size.

She turned right and approached her guests with a beaming smile. Scoresee freezed upon seeing her, he knew what was coming next. She extended a hand to his date and he grasped it with his delicate fingers.

"Nice to see a new man in the town", she said happily. "Welcome, I'm Diana Gershaw, I own this place." The man presented himself with some elaborate name that she instantly forgot. "Ah, thats superb! Our old Martin has finally found his soul-mate, eh? I can see it, he's got that special look in his eyes, that of a happy man! Why, I believe he is already planning a wedding, you see he is a very traditional, serious type of guy. I can't wait..."

"Diana!", hissed Scoresee staring at her darkly. "That's quite enough! Please kindly take your misdirected anger elsewhere!"

"Why? I thought it was my inn so maybe the one that should change places is you? It would brighten my day and make other patrons more... hm... comfortable."

"Their comfort is not my priority", said Scoresee, refusing to budge.

"That I already knew. Cute little thing you have here.", she said, winking to the Scoresee's date. "Make a honest man out of him, will you?" And with this parting words she left the pair. She laughed secretly at the disconcerted look of the guy. She could bet that the only thing Scoresee will be shagging today will be a hole in the wall.

"That was dirty", commented her barmaid Nanette, joining her in the back of the pub. Diana was busy with updating financial records of the inn and she frowned seeing that it was the fourth month their income was not as high as it used to be. Partially it was because of summertime but she supposed that mostly it was due to war. Now people had less willingness to entertain themselves, to travel.

"That was necessary. That bastards from the Board think they can order us around. I don't agree with such treatment. The fact that they are Aurors does not make them superior to us."

"Ah." Nanette obviously decided that it was better to change the topic. "You've cut your hair. And painted them different colour."

"Yeah, I did." Diana run a hand through her crop. "I felt like changing the style. And brunette is my natural, I've just decided to go back to it. What do you think?"

"It suits your businesswoman image", Nanette grinned. "But what will Dennis say about it?"

Diana laughed. "He hated it. Serves him right about being such an asshole during my auntie's birthday party."

He said that if Diana wanted to resemble her dead brother, she should simply Transfigure herself and be done with it. His words lead to one hell of a quarrel and they still weren't on speaking terms. She knew she will forgive him eventually, she always did. She had no idea why she was sticking to him, maybe because she was smitten with him; maybe because he was an Auror and Aurors have always fascinated her, maybe because he was unpredictable and just a little bit violent and maybe because she was a thirty-something old woman who really badly wanted to get married. Most probably it were all this factors coming into play.

"Just leave him and be done with it", said Nanette. "You could do better than him."

"Could I? Really, he is the first interesting person I've ever met. All of the others were so dull... Remember that guy I was dating before, Mike? He used to talk about Quidditch all the bloody time. Or about his boring work, just how long you could listen to a person rambling about regulations for usage of Doxycide and Chuck-a-gnomes?"

"He seemed a nice enough bloke to me, Diana. Nicer than Dennis, anyway. And you told me he was good in bed."

"Passable, Nan. And I'm happy with Dennis." Diana looked through the door to the main room, where her barman was busy attending to the clients. "It looks like Orvyn could use some help.", she said standing up. "I will go there and you go to the kitchen, ask if they need anything."

She went behind the bar and began serving drinks to the customers, who were starting to pour in for the evening. It was Friday so she knew the bar will get quite crowded quite soon. She saw Jayen striding purposefully in her direction and acknowledged him with a nod.

"Busy day I see", he said, not really looking at her. Something squeezed painfully at her chest. She just knew he had some bad news to share. It seemed that these days it was all about bad news.

"End of the week, obviously.", she said with a little shrug. "Something to drink, Sherlock?"

He snorted. "Acerbic as usual. Give me some Scotch, lass, before I wither away."

Diana rolled her eyes while she was pouring amber liquid into a tumbler. Their relationship was mostly about jokes and cutting remarks because Jayen Lynch was just that sort of guy. He liked a good laugh. One that have never met him at work might have even called him 'jolly', especially with those honey-coloured eyes always glittering at you like he wanted to share a dirty little secret and hands making wide gestures, patting his interlocutor's back or hitting a table to emphasize something he was saying. But the fact stood that he was also one of the most ruthless Aurors known to the American Ministry of Magic. Diana have never seen him working, but Daniel told her about some of Jayen's methods of dealing with smugglers and outlaws and they were downright frightening. Even D3 President have penalized him a couple of times for 'an unnecessary violence' and that was telling something. She was happy to never get to know this darker side of her brother's colleague.

But now he wasn't quite as buoyant as he used to be, she reflected. Like all of them, Daniel's death had hit him hard and those days his behavior have also changed. And it was a different change than that of the last person from their team. Matheus simply became more subdued, more focused on his wife and children. But in case of Jayen it looked like his darker side might be coming forth. More and more often she saw him drinking, with that dangerous look on his face that spoke of him being very close to killing somebody. She recognized that feeling, she herself was nurturing a similar one, but in his case she was afraid one day he may actually act upon it. So she tried to watch over him secretly, to keep him from trouble. And this proved to be exceedingly difficult, as he was more a cat than a man, often disappearing down the paths kinds of which she never put her foot on and reappearing after a day or a couple of days have passed. There was a whisper in the village that he was gambling or taking part in illegal broom races. She didn't know because he never answered her questions.

She was worried. She was feeling powerless to stop him. And now it looked like he was bringing her another thing to worry about.

"Just spill it out, Jay", she muttered, pouring him another drink.

"It's not that serious. Only, you asked for updates about Ashla and here I have one. Not the most pleasant one, I'm afraid. The Board want Ashla to be present during the Bonding of her children. They think that given a chance she might be willing to Bond again. There are some colleagues of ours that would like to have a dragon partner, especially an already trained one. Brutus Tindale for example. He lost Tamara during the Battle of Hogwarts and wants to be back in the saddle."

"It's outrageous! Ashla will never agree, mark my words!"

"I know she won't. But the Board doesn't want to loose such a valuable dragon. She was one of the best we had, if not the best. I understand their reasoning even if I don't approve it."

"But they want to put her on a bloody exhibition, like in some bloody circus!", Diana felt anger spreading through her. If before it was candlelight, now it was a flame eating up her soul. "This is undignified, how can you treat a war veteran like that?"

"I believe I've said them something along those lines", he answered dryly. "They laughed at me and said to me to stop being so bloody melodramatic. I only hope that Ashla is going to give it to them."

Diana gritted her teeth. She was going to approach those bastards one by one and show them the reason. That was what she was going to do.

"Don't think about hexing them, girl.", Jayen warned her. "Please remember that they are Aurors because I think you might have forgotten it for a moment."

"Hey, I don't..."

"In fact, If I even so much as see you in the vicinity of one of that guys I'm afraid I will have to take an immediate action of dragging you away by your ponytail."

"Good thing then that I cut my hair.", she said, seething. She hated being treated like her brother little sister. She also knew some useful jinxes even if she never fought against Dark.

"It will be your ear, then.", he said with a smirk. She wanted so much to smack him. Instead she smiled wickedly.

"No more Scotch for you, Jay", she said sweetly.

* * *

As Diana did every Saturday, she passed the hangar-like doors and entered the stables, dim-lighted and smelling with hay and dragon. Nearly all of the boxes were empty, the dragons taking a rest in the little valley that was nestled in between two neighboring mountains. A couple of people from the staff were busy cleaning, making reparations, preparing fodder. She passed them on her way to the more distant part of the stables. You could get there only by going through two sets of spell-encoded doors. It opened to the touch of her wand as she was one of the few people authorized to go in there. On the other side of the door was a spacious room with only two boxes inside. Only one of them was occupied and she opened a little slot to look into it.

"Ashla?", she whispered. "It's me."

A huge beast curled up on the hay gave only an irritated twitch of an ear as if to demonstrate that she really wasn't interested in conversation. Diana could see ribs poking through her matted skin and they looked even more pronounced that the last time she saw her. It was painfully obvious she was hardly eating. From under her coiled body she could see peaking out a very tip of one of the eggs. Diana knew that there were four of them and they were nearly ready to hatch. Soon, maybe too soon, Ashla will be free to fly.

"They want you to Bond again", she said matter-of-factly.

This gave her a reaction, at last. The dragon snarled and stared right at Diana, her huge golden eyes alight with some fierce emotion. The woman felt tears filling her eyes, she had no doubt that Ashla understood every word and she despaired that she in turn was unable to communicate with the dragon.

"I have no idea what are you saying but I can see that you don't like it. I will try to make them change their opinion but there is a chance I won't succeed and you will have to face them again.

Ashla growled and turned away. The conversation was over. Diana knew that no cajoling and no threats were going to make her look at Diana once more. So she left with a heavy heart. She was sure Ashla will fly. Maybe that was better, maybe at least for her the suffering will be over.

She marched back into the main part of the building. The staff was still moving around and she greeted the ones she passed by. She was nearly at the entrance when she noticed a guy she never seen before nailing a plank that have fallen off one of the boxes. There was something really strange in a focused determination with wich he was performing his task. She could easily say she has never seen someone as intent on nailing something. Intrigued, she decided to come closer.

"Hello there", she greeted him. "I've never seen you before and I know everyone in this town. I'm Diana Gershaw. Who are you?"

The man frowned and slowly looked up at her from his kneeling position. He made no move to stand up or to shake hands with her. Instead he stared at her like she was some strange species of animal. She noticed immediately that he was as far from the word 'handsome' as English language would allow it. Then his face took on an expression of wonder and just when Diana was starting to feel a little queasy, he looked down.

"I'm nobody", he muttered and then he went back to nailing that bloody plank as if she wasn't standing right there.

She felt indignation like a bile growing in her throat. She, the outstanding citizen of Leafland, was being ignored and by this outsider, no less. She crossed her arms and looked down at the top of the stranger's black head while he was still studiously ignoring her. "Oh no, Mr. Nobody, I will have none of it! You obviously are new so maybe I should introduce you to our customs. We do not accept anonymity here. So I ask you again: What is your name?"

His eyes rose slowly to meet hers. She noticed that they were impossibly dark in the pale face. His downturned mouth and creased brow indicated that he was disturbed by something. It irked her that it might be her continued presence. "It is of no consequence but if you wish so… Severus Snape. It's pleasure to make your acquaintance." After saying this he grabbed a nail and began hitting it with a hammer forcefully as if it was somehow offending him.

She blinked, her previous irritation forgotten. What a strange guy. His mannerism was that of upper class but here he was doing a work of a commoner. There had to be some insidious reason of him being in this place. "Are you employed here?"

"Not quite. Is there really some point to this discussion, Ms. Gershaw?", he asked with a kind of cold politeness that again made her hackles rise. She guessed that most women would have backed off by now, recognizing an impossible case. But not her. She immediately decided that she would pull information out of that infuriating guy one way or another. She tapped her foot, 'incidentally' hitting the box with nails. They scattered all over the floor and the man send her the ugliest scowl she has ever seen.

"You might not know it but I own a bar in downtown. And I like to know where my potential clients come from and if they are prone to causing disruptions."

"It is highly unlikely that I will come to your inn at all", he said in a slightly snappish tone. "So you do not need to concern yourself with my behavior. Now could you please leave me at peace so I could continue with my highly responsible work."

He bended over and started collecting nails one by one. She took pity in him and waved her wand so the nails flew back to the box. "You could have thought of it by yourself", she said, smirking.

"I was said that we are not supposed to use magic here", he said matter-of-factly.

"Oh seriously, your boss is overreacting", she rolled her eyes. "Dragons won't get mad from a little spell. So will you tell me why are you so tightass?"

"And what if I won't?", the bastard rose his eyebrow challengingly.

"I will gather intelligence from your colleagues and, guessing by your behavior, it will be mostly disparaging comments."

"Go on, then", he said, shrugging. "I couldn't have cared less."

Oh, the gall of that man! See if she doesn't! She took an immediate turn and walked straight to the nearest guy form the staff. Derek Water was one of her more regular clients but he was also of the more responsible sort. She has never seen him drink himself to the ground, he always knew where to stop. She gave Derek a nod and he rose both his eyebrows in surprise.

"Derek, I have one question for you", she said, going straight to the crux of the matter. "Who the hell is that guy over there?"

Derek looked in the direction she was pointing at and out of sudden his facial expression changed to the one of hatred. She stared in shock, she has never seen him expressing such strong feelings before. He spit on the ground. "Him? He is one of those bloody Death Eaters, that's whom he is! I have no idea why Aurors sent one of them up here, they were supposed to dig the dragon caves for us. And now we are stuck with seeing his ugly mug every day. Seriously, what the bosses were thinking?"

She felt mildly disappointed with herself upon hearing his words. Why she didn't consider that before? It was really such an obvious explanation if you looked back. But of course she was fishing for something far more mysterious, stupid woman that she was.

"Hell, that's messy", she admitted.

"You have no idea. Half of us have already sworn to get the son of a whore to teach him a couple of lessons. And I understand their reason but our boss forbid us to as much as touch a hair on his head. And he has got his instructions from the President herself so it's not up to discussion. So everyone's on edge right now. I don't know where this situation will lead but I feel the end of it will be ugly."

She shook her head, it really felt hopeless. Bringing those criminals here was enough of bad idea but until no one really saw them, it was bearable. But now it looked like the Board decided to take one more step down that dangerous road. Hell, even she would like to have a go at them, after all those bastards were responsible for the death of her brother. And talking about bastards…

"Death Eater", she greeted again the kneeling man, putting as much malice into her voice as it was humanly possible. She had to admit it didn't come out as harsh as it should have had.

"I'm so happy we brought our fruitless conversation to an end.", deadpanned the man, again with downcast eyes. "This was really starting to get uncomfortable. Now if you satisfied your curiosity will you please leave me be?"

She frowned, for once at loss of words. She was sure she should be feeling pure loathing toward him but somehow this guy didn't inspire it. Or maybe that was because she was pants at being hateful. Anyway, she needed to sort out her feelings because right now she had no idea how to behave.

"We will be finishing this discussion soon", she warned.

"I hope not", muttered the man.

* * *

Jayen Lynch was a man who loved the beauty of action and the danger that with no exception followed every adventure. He considered himself brave but not to the point of recklessness. He always recognized a hopeless situation and avoided them. That was what Daniel taught him.

Now he threw caution to the wind. There was nothing for him anymore to stop him from heading straight into danger and he did just it. Their division have heard about illegal chases two years ago, but so far the three trials of approaching people responsible for the chases have failed. They were so sneaky it was uncanny, the agreement between his fellow Aurors stood that there must be at least one powerful Dark wizard between them. Traces of black magic were always present in places they previously occupied but the source of said magic was unrecognizable. And no Auror have ever seen the actual chase.

Now Jayen was being very close to taking part in one. Two months ago when he was desperately looking for a distraction he remembered this old unsolved case. He made a decision to try to approach them not covertly, as they have probably already knew every Auror in their vicinity, but openly. He played a part of a life-beaten veteran who just lost his faith in justice and decided to throw away his worthless life to try something more dangerous and thrilling. During long conversations with shady characters he made it painfully obvious that he didn't particularly care for his life. He was sure that someone relevant will eventually contact him.

It happened a week ago. The man was of shifty kind, Polyjuiced for some unsuspicious bloke and with eyes that constantly moved and lips that spilled forth comfortable lies. They met in the Seven Socks and Jayen listened while man explained the idea of the races. It looked like every time it was about different magical species. This way was fare more unpredictable, the man said, and that factor was important if you betted thousands of golden Crocks on the winner. Jayen have said that he didn't believe that all the species can be used. The man gave him coordinates and advised him to check it.

So he was now checking it.

_Dragonius says it's a stupid idea. He sais it will get you killed,_ commented Falco, his chestnut-colored dragon partner, flying between two mountaintops. Ice glittered in the sun and the air was wonderfully fresh. Yes, the autumn was coming but it still wasn't quite there.

_And what is your opinion?_

_I have no opinion whatsoever. I like the thrill of a hunt and it will be a good one, won't it?_

_Perfect, Falco. Believe me, it will be a perfect one._

_Good because I would like to spread my wings a little._

That was so falco-ish, thought Jayen with sentiment, adjusting the goggles that protected his eyes from sun and frostbite. His dragon was totally carefree and he stayed so even after Daniel's death. If this or Ashla's suffering have affected him in any way he has never shown it. He was an exception between their numbers. Somehow, in some strange way, his lack of concern helped Jayen to keep it together.

_We land here_, said his dragon, taking a sharp turn towards a canyon that from this height looked quite narrow. He was dropping down in tight circles while Jayen held to the saddle and observed the stony walls getting steeper and higher while they were approaching. Hell, cross it, it was more than narrow, it was confining.

_They were chasing through that?_

_It seems so. Close your eyes, we are going for a dive._

_Not in my life, Falco, am I going to close them. Go on with it._

The dragon plunged down. From outside it looked like an uncontrolled fall but clinging to Falco's back apart from the wind roaring in his ears Jayen could hear little flaps of the creature's wings. The dragon smartly slipped in between rocks, only the tip of his tail hitting the wall. The canyon got wider down there, so the dragon flexed its body and with a couple of powerful wing flaps halted their fall. They landed in the bed of a dried-up river.

And it looked like they didn't need to search for long. The sight waited for them, amazing and frightening at the same time. Jayen jumped off the dragon's back and approached the gigantic fish-like skeleton. He slowly walked along it, examining the strangely-shaped structures that looked like wings and ones that looked like jaws. There were many of them and they had twisted shapes. Whatever the creature looked like when it was alive, it had to be quite grotesque. Of course if you could call grotesque a thing that was at least one hundred meters long. Three times bigger than the biggest whale.

Jayen felt curiosity radiating from his partner. He also has never seen something quite so huge.

_What is it? It could have eaten me in one swallow,_ said Falco with good humor. _Of course I would have never allowed that._

_A flying fish_, explained Jayen, amazed. _Those bloody wankers did a chase with bloody Leviathans, for Circe's sake! You know, this is real deep shit what I'm getting myself into, Falco. _

_You are resigning?_

_Never._

TBC

* * *

A/N: Thank you for the reviews. The next chapter is going to be rather angsty, as it will be again from Snape's POV. Keep reading!


	5. Look Down

**5. Look Down**

The lessons in humility the life was giving him. He never before thought himself able to stand being the lowest servant of them all. But here he was, his destiny again hanging by a single thread, surrounded by people who knew him only as a criminal, people who despised the very idea of a Death Eater. And him working for them. It was a sick relationship, even worse than the one when he was in power, when he acted as the Headmaster. In his previous life he wouldn't be able to suffer it even for a minute. But now he had been preconditioned to it he just knew that any form of resistance, being it passive or active, will end up badly for him. Those people just waited for his disobedience. So he was calm, collected and polite no matter what sort of insults they were throwing at him and he never, never looked them in the eyes.

This way they could accept his continued presence. This way maybe they won't find a reason to hurt him again. It was a small hope but the one he was clinging to. This way was a way to stay alive day after tedious day.

* * *

His first meal here as a part of the staff he was given a coupon to the Headquarters' cantina and told to utilize it from now. But before heading there he was inspected by Chang and a deep scowl was a result of that inspection.

"Your fingernails are dirty, your hair is unkempt, your face looks like it could use a soap. Your appearance brings shame to us. Rectify it at once."

Snape had finally passed the inspection. By that time he had already scrubbed his skin raw and washed his teeth no less than five times. He was starting to wonder if he was to be put to some kind of exhibition when Chang nodded once and allowed him to put on the grey-blue working robes of Headquarter's staff.

"You are supposed to be neat at any time of the day", his new boss instructed him. "No matter what are you currently doing. This is a respectable place and every our worker takes pride in being employed here. Understood?"

"Yes, sir", muttered Severus, feeling extremely uncomfortable with his hair tied back. It felt like the last shield he had had been taken from him.

Chang was watching him impassively. He seemed to care only about the quality of his work, not his damnable past. During the next week he even started to look approving when he saw that Snape was no idler and took his job seriously, even if it was the most mundane type of work like sweeping the floor. He never commented on him being the convicted criminal.

As far as it went Chang was an exception.

Upon entering the cantina a dozen of heads rose to watch him. The stares he was given were ranging from unpleasant to threatening. All normal dinner talk shushed up and after a moment whispers started. Severus observed the lunching staff in passing, trying not to look at them directly. It seemed that the lower was the rank of the worker, the more scandalized he or she appeared. While the cleaners, the dragon keepers, the feeders and the repair crew were all shooting him angry glares, from magmechanics, vets and all kinds of office workers what came was a raised eyebrow or a carefully blank face.

Severus already knew all those types of reaction by heart, there were even times he was subtly amused by it. You couldn't be a proper spy without being generally hated, it went with the job, at least in Severus' opinion. Once upon a time he welcomed that hatred because being hated was better than being laughed at. Now when the life have given him a lesson that you could be easily both at the same time, he didn't like the feeling anymore. Alas, there was nothing he could do about it now. So he gritted his teeth and queued for his meal.

"You upset my appetite, you stupid bastard", said someone behind him. Severus wished dearly to turn to the botherer and retort with something scathing, like 'I hope I've upsetted your shitting as well.' or 'Good. I will eat your portion for you with pleasure.' but he knew that doing it will be asking for a punch in the face. So he instead stared stonily ahead, watching the cook pouring some kind of meat stew into a bowl of a guy staying ahead of him.

"Don't you ignore me, you piece of dragon dung!", hissed the bastard behind his back. Severus felt something poking his rib and this time he whirled to face his opponent. The thing poking him turned out to be a finger, not the man's wand and the wild heartbeat that erupted in Severus' chest slowed down. The man was a standard office-worker wearing a dull grey set of standard office robes and the slight sneer was the only lively feature of his face. Severus gauged him to be a man who wouldn't endure five minutes in the battlefield. In normal circumstances he would have laughed at the man's face. That day he just looked down at the man's feet, clad in standard black oxfords.

"I don't ignore you, sir. I have simply nothing to say, sir."

From under his eyelashes he saw man's expression turning to one of disappointment. He surely expected some defiance. He didn't know that Severus was already past defiance. He could not know how much pain the defiance had costed Severus.

"Maybe you should say something. Maybe you should explain what are you doing here!", snapped the dull man irritably.

He wanted confrontation. Not good. Severus had no chances in winning, not even with this bald fatty excuse of a wizard. He shook his head slowly. "Excuse me sir, but I don't understand your question. I am here because they have sent me here. I am not free to move around. And if you mean being here, I am a human being who needs food."

The man looked a little confused about how to answer. He obviously did not catch the very subtle irony of Severus speech, he was too dumb for that. "Well, that's surely..."

"Move on, I don't have whole day!", snapped the irritated cook, saving Snape from more of this conversation. He gave his coupon to the cook who smirked upon seeing it and Severus. "A new face on board, yes? Here we have some special offer for you!"

A 'special offer' turned out to be the cheapest dish available, which was a strange-tasting soup and a stew but not the kind of which he has seen given to the man before him. This one had much more carrot inside than anything else and a lonely piece of some meat was floating on the surface. Snape took it wordlessly and went into a search of a place to seat. Near all of them were occupied by people who were severely displeased with his continued presence so he spent nearly a minute walking around until he spotted a small table squeezed into a corner. He sat there and started to eat, listening to the conversations that by now turned back to normal.

* * *

An air of animosity surrounding him was nearly palpable by the third day of him working as part of Headquater's staff. People spit at the ground when he was passing them and called him filthy names. People sneered and hissed and harassed him. They did not dare cause him any bodily harm, he has heard someone muttering that there was an order issued from a superior to leave him in peace. But 'Leaving him in peace' apparently did not extend to them hindering his work. There were tiles loosened so he tripped over them, there were substances spilled 'accidentally' on the floor which took him many trials with different cleaning solutions to scour off, there were utensils magically disappearing. One day he was chasing around a hammer that was spelled to avoid him. Those were stupid, spiteful little things but also ones that were making him feel even more hopeless. With a little bit of magic he wouldn't have been bothered by them. But his magic, the only worthy thing that he have ever possessed, was taken from him.

And so he was initially scared too, because they all had their wands and were free to use them. But the more he observed them, the more he was starting to notice that they were in fact mostly _not_ using magic. Their wands were kept in view, secured in wand-holsters at their belts and they never had a manner of touching them or making vague gestures like they were considering reaching for it. For Severus who was so used to watching intently his peers when they were fiddling with their sleeves, waiting if they make a single suspicious movement so he could outmatch them, it was a strange situation. It was almost like they were not afraid of an attack.

He could not pinpoint what caused such behavior. Only after Martin Scoresee approached him on his fourth day Severus was given some explanation.

"Magic? You cannot use it around here, not really. The dragon magic interferes with the wizard magic so we tend to keep it down to a minimum around their living quarters. They are especially irritated by the embedded kinds of magic, like Transfiguration but all the items that were somehow charmed on the way are causing them distress. So we make most things Muggle way. Of course there are some exceptions like protections surrounding the Headquarters but inside we try to not use spells."

Severus frowned and nodded, taking a sip of his coffee. He felt pretty uncomfortable there, sitting on a leather sofa in Martin's office. Following the Auror up to the higher parts of the building he was afraid that someone will see him and complain about his presence here. But Martin laughed at that, saying that there was no soul here in the weekends, except for him and his team who was on duty.

"I've also noticed something strange", murmured Severus, putting down the cup and looking at his hands folded on his lap. The whole situation was deeply unsettling for him anyway. "Their mannerism concerning the usage of wands…"

"Ah!", Martin nodded knowingly. "You mean the Decorum? Every student of Salem Institute and California School of Magical Arts is taught it at the very beginning of their training. Don't you have anything similar in Britain?"

"You have to explain me first what the Decorum means."

"Well there are some basic rules deriving from good manners as well as our quest for safety within our country. You see, when everyone is armed, you have to teach them how to use their weapons and a wand is a weapon. I wouldn't go into details now but basically you have to keep your wand in sight when you are in wizarding areas, as well as you have to state clearly your intentions of using magic on somebody. If you pull your wand and point it at somebody without saying which spell you want to use, he or she has right to assume that you will be attacking them and answer in kind. And the guilt goes to the one who pulled out his weapon first, not the one who shot a spell. The kids are taught that the wand is not to be fiddled with, as Muggles do not fiddle with their pistols."

"I'm impressed.", said Severus. "So you actually have classes on it? Our students could have used that, they are far too careless with their wands up to sitting on them or sticking them behind their ears."

"Believe me, if somebody will want to hex you, you will know it beforehand. And that brings us to important things. How are you adapting?"

"As well as anticipated for a grasshopper in the ant-hill." He shook his head at the Auror's frowning. "No, they won't eat me, at least I don't think so. They not once tried to cause me bodily harm. But they are angry and they display that anger in many ways. I cannot blame them for that, they are reacting to a presence of a Death Eater. I am a personification of all the evil that befallen your country during the last war. I understand their disposition towards me, on the contrary, I can't get my head round the idea of why you are so intent on helping me."

"I've already told you, it is about my priorities."

Severus felt like smirking so he did just that. It felt good. "Priorities can only get you as far. So please, don't feed me this bullshit, Officer. You already know that I'm fairly well, they feed me properly, do not make me work too hard and Chang even gave me free Sundays. It's a decent treatment for a prisoner. You could have well stopped at that. You didn't and it's not your sense of duty that made you invite me here for a private talk."

Scoresee laughed. He shifted papers lying scattered on his desk and pulled out what looked like a copy of a newspaper page. "All right, you have me there, spy. It's curiosity, plain and simple. I've got interested because my dragon got interested in you and Amaranth is a good judge of characters so he had to see something worthy in you. And so I've searched some information on you – on your life, your sins, your trial – in sources open for general use. And found scarcely anything. I know you were a teacher at Hogwarts, that you joined Voldemort ranks at young age and that you supposedly spied on him for Albus Dumbledore. That you were tried and absolved in early '80 and the person that gave his testimony was Albus Dumbledore. That you continued to work at Hogwarts until the second war came and it was first assumed that you returned to spying and working for Dumbledore's secret organization. And then you murdered your Headmaster… you took his job… you were branded the worst Headmaster of Hogwarts… you were caught and sentenced. Those are bare facts which I've picked up in various articles and I have to say there was little substance in them, nothing that could say what sort of man you had been. You are a man of mystery, Severus Snape, and I'm especially fond of mysteries. And look only at the descriptions of happenings following the Battle of Hogwarts. There is much information and detailed too but near to nothing about you and other Death Eaters. And the following articles doesn't rectify that. Please take a look at them and tell me what do you think."

Severus scanned the articles with some interest, sipping his coffee. There were things he didn't knew like the list of people who died or Ministry policies after the war. Scratch this off, he was oblivious about it all. He was moved to the cell in Azkaban as soon as he was caught and from that point he had no knowledge of things happening in the outside world. He felt somehow strangely when he read that both Lupins died in the battle. It looked like he outlived all of his old enemies after all, not that their fates were worse than his.

And he should also be dead. He really should have. He had no idea what fancy game the Destiny was playing with him but he wished he could just quit.

He read further. Hogwart castle was in ruins, they've said it will take many months to rebuild it. There was a picture of it next to the article and he saw that two of its walls crashed down and the Gryffindor tower was there no more. He felt something akin to sadness, he still thought about it as his home despite all terrible things that happened to him in its walls. He turned a page and saw a list of the Orders of Merlin; Potter has got the First Class, Granger and Weasley the Second Class. Many were issued post mortem. All of the members of Order Of Phoenix were decorated with them.

Except him, of course.

A couple of articles dealt with cabinet changes, like hiring new heads of departments or elections of the Minister of Magic which were won, not surprisingly, by Kingsley Shacklebolt. He skimmed through them, he had no real interest in politics. He paused at the material dealing with repercussion. Here at last Death Eaters were mentioned but in such derogatory manner like they were some rabid animals that had to be put in order. Nothing about the crimes they committed, no biographical notes, even their names weren't put on paper. He finished reading with a feeling of nonexistence. But he already suspected as well, didn't he? The message from the Ministry was clear: Death Eaters were to be not remembered.

"A nice collection you have here, Officer.", he commented.

"All of that hardly worth reading", retorted Scoresee. "True information lays in secret files of the Auror Office and MoM. But we have no access to them without going through some tedious paperwork. I prefer easier ways to gather intelligence and that is by talking to people. And that is why I am asking you, Mr. Snape. Who are you? How did you end up here?"

"Oh, so you want my story. But why would you believe me?"

"I want no proofs of innocence, Mr. Snape. I just wish to satisfy my curiosity. If you decide to lie, well, it's up to you."

Severus stared at Martin Scoresee long and hard. The man appeared to be sincere. Severus wondered if American Aurors were trained at detecting lies and which methods they were using. It didn't matter anyway. He was not prepared to share his life story with anybody. Of course he could not refuse the Auror straight out. He owed him, after all. But he might just have an idea.

"Maybe I will be willing. But it is difficult for me", he said. "I would like to get something from you first. Information for information. You see, there is a mystery I would like to dispel. It concerns my death."

"Your death?"

"Yes, my death. You see, I should have died on the battlefield. I didn't and I still don't know why."

"Like you were hurt and didn't die?"

"No. Like I was killed and didn't die."

Scoresee was frowning. "I believe I can't get my mind around the idea. Could you say something more?"

"I can. The last day of the battle, the Dark Lord have called me so I came. He was obviously concerned over something and I thought he was wondering if our forces are enough against Americans. But he wanted something else from me. He explained to me that the wand that was before in possession of Albus Dumbledore was thought to be the most powerful wand known to wizards. It's a part of our mythology that such an artifact exist, you see. Maybe it was true, maybe not, the important thing being that the Dark Lord believed it. And he believed also that because I've killed Dumbledore the wand recognized me as its new master. So now, he said regretfully, he had to kill me."

Severus remembered that just too well. The cold dread seeping into his veins, his heart hammering in his chest, the wish to bolt, fingers closing around his wand…

"He set his snake on me, a huge beast ten meters long. I had no chances when it coiled around me. But the Dark Lord stopped his pet before it buried its fangs in my flesh."

Severus instinctively embraced himself. Still he could feel the crushing power of animal's muscles. All the air had been squeezed out of his lungs and a terrible shriek had escaped from his lips.

"_I apologize, but I want no chances with you, my friend. The rest I have to do myself. The wand shan't be confused about who its owner is."_

"He called me 'his friend' straight before training his wand, the old one, not Dumbledore's, at me. That was so Voldemort", Severus rolled his eyes. "He shot me with Killing Curse, touching his wand to my forehead as to not harm his bloody snake. I knew I was dead. I felt darkness closing around me and in me. Then I felt no more."

Scoresee blinked. "And?"

"And I was woken up by Aurors. They believed I've fainted. I did not faint, Officer. I was killed but the Death did not come for me. If you give me a credible explanation of this phenomenon, then I might be inclined to share some of my life story with you."

"That is quite a mystery", admitted Scoresee, smiling widely. "Do you have more of them up your sleeves? By the way you look at me I suppose you do. Give me a week and I will bring you the answer."

"A week?" Severus smirked at the Auror who looked smug. "It will take you much more than that." It will take you a whole eternity to solve that one, Officer, he thought.

"We will see about it."

* * *

That Saturday was shitty straight from the beginning. Verbatim. Upon exiting a small room that before becoming his sleeping quarters was probably a broom closet he walked straight into a huge pile of dragon dung. The next half hour he spent cleaning his working boots and sweeping the floor until even the smell vanished, all the time cursing profusely. He decided against telling Chang, as it would make him look even weaker than he felt. The word 'Snivellus' was engraved in his memory and one of the things that always enraged him was being called a coward. He will endure the bastards' stupid little pranks, they will not catch him sniveling.

After cleaning he barely had time for a breakfast. He had to report to Chang every morning at eight o'clock. So he rushed through his meal – tasteless tea and bread with low-quality cold meats – and run to the stables, where the staff was already gathering for a briefing. As he tried not to fall asleep during Chang's longish talk he dreamed of coffee, a nice brand like the one Scoresee treated him to. Hell, in that moment he was nearly ready to tell the Auror his deepest secrets for a cup of black beverage.

No coffee for the wicked.

He was given a list of tasks for the day and went straight for the first one. It was to bring a couple of buckets of fermented blood which dragons loved. The work included going up and down the steep hill as the blood was kept in caves on the other side of a mountain. He didn't mind doing it if it meant an hour of relative peace. He watched the dragons being let out to romp in the sunbathed hills, admiring their agility and wondering how much intelligence sat in that triangular heads. The books he has already read treated about dragons in general and when he asked about that particular breed he was told by the Healer that it was considered a confidential information and the access to it was limited to the Aurors, higher office workers, vets and research staff. It was frustrating because dragons in general were considered to be wild animals and were described as such, and he had a strong suspicion that those beasts were much more than that. Well, he was stubborn enough to find the truth one way or another, he thought.

Just when he was deep in thoughts he tripped on an invisible rope. He fell and with him fell two buckets of blood, one directly on his lap. He slowly stood up, smelly substance soaking through his robes. He thought ironically he would have made a delicious dragon pastry. Cursing again under his breath he went to change his clothes. Two members of staff snickered when they saw him but he stared ahead and paid them no attention. If they thought he will be upset by such idle jokes they were sorely mistaken.

He was taking care of a couple of planks that some overeager dragon tore off when happened the thing that made his day just absolutely bloody perfect.

"Hello there", he heard a woman's voice. "I've never seen you before and I know everyone in this town. I'm Diana Gershaw. Who are you?"

Startled, he looked up because a long time have passed since any woman talked to him in such amiable way. And immediately he felt like drowning. _No._ It couldn't be true.

She had green eyes.

After a moment which felt like eternity he shook himself mentally. This woman looked nothing like _Lily_. Her face was ordinary and she was gazing at him openly, one of those people that weared their hearts in their sleeves. There was also something harsh in her, she was probably a solid, hard-working person, used to surviving dire circumstances. Lily was made of mist and wind, that Gershaw woman was made of rock. No, there wasn't even tiniest similarity between them, that woman's eyes didn't even have the same vibrant color, they were darker and duller, brownish even. He had no idea what came over him, what kind of delusion made him think for a moment... Maybe it was born from his guilt, the one that never left him during the last sixteen years. He dropped his head in shame and willed the woman to leave him alone.

"I'm nobody", he said and pretended to ignore her.

The bloody woman did not leave. He should know, that her type didn't give up so easily.

"Oh no, Mr. Nobody, I will have none of it! You obviously are new so maybe I should introduce you to our customs. We do not accept anonymity here. So I ask you again: What is your name?"

Customs, right. He nearly forgot he was living in a small wizarding community. And she had no idea whom he was. He stared back at her and seeing her again he had to accept that something in her person was making him feel uneasy. Like she was threatening the integrity of his soul. He had no idea where that feeling came from. "It is of no consequence but if you wish so… Severus Snape. It's pleasure to make your acquaintance", he said and prayed fervently that the woman stop preying upon him.

No such luck.

"Are you employed here?"

"Not quite. Is there really some point to this discussion, Ms. Gershaw?", he asked this time using one of his less pleasant tones. He hoped she would feel offended and leave. But the obnoxious woman responded with kicking his nail box and he out of sudden felt anger rising. So she too was treating him like scum? Well, what did he expect. Maybe this was one of little games they wanted to play with him.

"You might not know it but I own a bar in downtown. And I like to know where my potential clients come from and if they are prone to causing disruptions."

Oh yes, of course he will be going down there for a pint or two! The game, if it was a game and Severus felt strongly that it had to be, was getting absurd. He decided to not take a bait.

"It is highly unlikely that I will come to your inn at all. So you do not need to concern yourself with my behavior. Now could you please leave me at peace so I could continue with my highly responsible work."

He hoped that the sentence sounded final. It did, didn't it? Every civilized person would have understood that was the end of the conversation. But apparently Diana Gershaw didn't. She arranged the nails in the box, using magic of course, probably rubbing his nose into a fact that he had currently no magic to speak of. He was really tired by people trying to make his life even more unpleasant that it already was, so he shrugged noncommitally when she threatened to ask others about him. A game or not, she would have found out sooner or later.

"Death Eater."

There was venom in that voice, no surprise here. She was probably one of those little lambs who lost someone dear in the war, ready to charge at anyone who looked like enemy. So he took it with as much pride as he had left. When he at least saw her retreating form, he was nearly sure that would be the end of it, no matter the parting warning the woman issued him.

At the evening, when he was preparing for bed, her face swam before his mind's eyes and sleep left him. Irritated and restless without any real cause to such distress, he paced around his little room like a caged animal. Then he remembered Lily and again felt immense guilt at the memory of her eyes, her smile... Everything gone because of his doings. He experienced hurt and shock and rage, all the familiar feelings that still consumed him. At least at some wee hour of the morning he closed his tired eyes and, in passing, thought that there was something unusual about that Gershaw woman.

But he won't be the one to find out.

* * *

_A/N: For the title of the chapter I had my inspiration in the "Les Miserables" musical, the Convicts Song. Here are the lyrics:_

_[PRISONERS]_

_Look down, look down_

_Don't look 'em in the eye_

_Look down, look down,_

_You're here until you die_

_[CONVICT ONE]_

_The sun is strong_

_It's hot as hell below_

_[PRISONER]_

_Look down, look down,_

_There's twenty years to go_

_[CONVICT TWO]_

_I've done no wrong!_

_Sweet Jesus, hear my prayer!_

_[PRISONERS]_

_Look down look down, _

_Sweet Jesus doesn't care_

_[CONVICT THREE]_

_I know she'll wait,_

_I know that she'll be true!_

_[PRISONERS]_

_Look down, look down,_

_They've all forgotten you_

_Comments welcomed!_


	6. Deal and no deal

**6. Deal and no deal**

„Holiday in Britain? In October?", asked his co-worker incredulously, when he declared his wish to go on a one week vacation. "I would have understood Hawaii or even Mexico but this… Man, this is just plainly stupid. The rain there is continuous, and is charm-resistant, I think it has a little bit of magic of it's own. And when it is not raining, it's blowing. You will be running back here in no time, believe me."

"I will survive", Martin laughed and took a swig of his whisky. "I need some fresh Knarl quills and they are easiest to find at that time of year. And while I am there, I wish to see how are people doing after the war. Remember our old project of reinforcing the international cooperation of our respectable Auror departments? I believe that now is a good time to bring it up again, seeing as we actually worked together during their war."

"You guess they will want to talk with us? They believe themselves self-sufficient."

"Not so much now, don't you think so? They've got cut down to size lately. However you look at it, they would have lost without us. So yes, I believe we have some ground to start now. And better do it sooner than later, either they might forget the favor we did to them. President Goodwich agrees."

"You've got her blessing to begin negotiations?"

"Yes, in fact I do."

"So you are going on a business trip, not on vacation! Will you get reimbursement for that?"

"No, it's mainly vacation. We can't afford anything official, not now when we are yet to taste the waters with them. I will be only speaking to some old acquaintances of mine, nothing more."

"Well, have luck with that. I've heard they could be quite the prickly bastards especially if stroked the wrong way."

Martin laughed. "I will bear that in mind."

He thought about one especially prickly bastard, the one who was the main reason for his out-of-season journey to Britain. The task that was given him might sound difficult but in fact it depended on the existence of people who could give you an answer. And Martin, luckily, knew exactly such person. He was positive he will get his answers in a week. And then nothing will stop him from satisfying his curiosity.

* * *

In fact it was drizzling when he came out the Ministry of Magic building, being transported there by the International Floo Network. Flooing through the Atlantic Sea was unpleasant at the least, but it was surely better that using the Portkey. While the first had you seriously disoriented and covered in soot, the second left you vomiting what was left from your breakfast, suffering from terrible potion-resistant migraine and in case of some susceptible persons needing medical attention due to seizures. Of course you could try Apparating if you were daring enough, but the statistics said that two thirds of those Apparitions ended in the middle of the ocean due to untimely magical exhaustion. So as far as it went Flooing was the safest option, even if costs of using the long-distance connection rivaled the prices of Muggle flights.

Not minding the water that was seemingly pouring at him from all the directions and soaking through his Muggle-style coat, he opted for a leisurely walk through the center of the town to its less inhabited areas where he knew the entrance to the Diagon Alley was.

People here did not look like there was a terrifying wizarding war that ended no more than six months ago. Probably mostly because of MoM Secrecy staff they lived their everyday lives, oblivious to tragedy that struck their country. It made him feel at ease, so he spent some time walking through the streets, making a mental list of historical monuments he had to visit. He was here before but never had that much time to himself so now he had it he planned to use it up. He had no real official mission, the proposition to talk with Ministry Aurors came from him. Three appointments he made will take up little of his time.

Two hours later he entered the dim interior of the Leaky Cauldron. It was typically British, up to inhabitants taking long swigs of ale or stout and talking animatedly round the wooden tables. Some of them were sitting at the bar, chatting up the barmen. The guests were men only, other British feature. He wasted no time in staying there, going straight to the backyard where he tapped correct password with his wand on a brick wall. He entered the Diagon Alley.

He never liked it that much. It was too cramped for his taste, filled with all kinds of irritating noises, all kinds of overlapping smells, people rushing up and down and by some miracle not stomping on each other robes. He had no idea how was it possible to actually live here but he supposed that some serious space-enlarging magic was used. Luckily for US wizards, the territory of their country was so huge that it allowed existence of not one but many magical villages so they had no need to squeeze themselves in between Muggles. Well, there was of course the NY wizarding community, but those people were strange anyway.

He took down his coat and gave it a shake. Immediately it transformed into a cape which he put on without hesitation because a drizzle seemed to penetrate even here. He moved his steps up the winding street and into one of little backstreets. The shops here were older and customers scarce. He liked that, he wished no accidental audience.

He walked the cobblestone pavement up to the shop in farthest corner. The sole wand in the exhibition window was the only indication as to what was sold inside. But that wizard, the true Master of the wandlore, needed no advertisement. He entered without hesitation and immediately was transported back to the early seventies, when he came here for his first adult wand. The smell of wood, mystery and dust, all mixed together was making feel him like a teenager again and the sight of wand boxes piled up as high as the ceiling were making his finger itch. A pale serious-looking boy stared at him when he entered.

"Good afternoon. Do you wish to buy a wand, sir?", asked the boy pointedly.

Martin frowned worried that the Master himself might be absent, but immediately he has heard the soft but undoubtedly irritated voice coming from the back. He would have recognized it anywhere and he sighed in relief.

"What did I tell you about greeting our customers, boy? It is impolite to ask such direct questions, you have to let them speak first!" The wizened wizard came out and joined the young man behind the counter, all the time shaking his head. "That is a price I pay for having an apprentice. Lack of peace, I say. Nicolas, please go continue with the inventory. I have some business to set with that gentleman here.

The pale cheeks of the boy took on crimson hue, when he scurried off to the back of the shop. The Master appraised the Auror for a long moment.

"Martin Scoresee! Beech, twelve inches, unyielding, dragon heart core. Ah, what brings you here after so many years, Mr. Scoresee? Has your wand caused you any problems?"

"None at all, Master. It serves me well. I am here on behalf of somebody who couldn't come by himself. Do you remember Severus Snape?"

Ollivander frowned. "I never forget any of my clients, Mr. Scoresee. He was a quiet, troubled young man when he came to me for his wand. A blackthorn wand have chosen him and then I knew he was entering a dark path. I've heard he was sentenced not long ago. What do you wish to know?"

"There is a mystery surrounding the last hours before he was caught and it is connected to the Voldemort's wand", Martin explained. At Ollivander's curious look, the Auror retold the story as he has heard it from Snape. After he finished talking, a long silence have fallen in the shop. The Master stared ahead, seemingly deep in thoughts. When at long least he spoke, his voice was dreamy.

"You know, Mr. Scoresee, this is the second time that particular wand failed to kill somebody. First time was when its master tried to murder Harry Potter, but then a powerful magic, love magic, caused the spell to rebound and strike the caster. I would say it might have broken the wand too, but in fact we know that Voldemort's wand functioned well afterwards as he killed many people with it. I myself examined it after his death but found nothing wrong with it."

Martin frowned. He was sure that the problem was with the wand. "But do you have any clue at all, Master?"

"Oh yes, I might have. It is a small probability but still exists." Ollivander smiled. "Love, tricky thing it is, don't you agree, Mr. Scoresee? Wands, submitted to the influence of different sorts of strong magic become after time shaped by it. Voldemort's wand was no exception. I've said it wasn't malfunctioning but it didn't mean it couldn't be _preconditioned_ by what happened the night the Killing Spell on Harry Potter was cast. It might be that it became impossible to kill with it somebody who was under similar kind of protection. Alas, you have to ask Mr. Snape himself. If by any chance you get an answer out of him, do not hesitate to contact me, I'm most curious about this anomaly."

"Fascinating", agreed Martin. Here, at last, he had something. "So you think this is the only possibility?"

"I am quite sure of that, Mr. Scoresee."

* * *

For the meeting with his old acquaintance, Ambrose Dacombe, Martin chose a Muggle bar in the center of London. It was adequately crowded with noisy tourists as to not be overheard or even spotted by magical folk who avoided such establishments. Wearing short-sleeved shirts and trousers they looked like three businessman lunching.

Martin welcomed Ambrose warmly marveling at how different and mature he looked. They met many years ago when the British Auror came to US for a half-year training. They immediately liked each other and after discovering that they shared the inclination for the same gender they jumped on a chance of having an affair. It was a short-timed thing, of course, no obligations, and they parted with no regrets. Martin was young at the time, young and full of hope that the years that will come will bring him many more marvels and that the love of his life was just waiting to appear one day at his doorstep. But the years flew by one by one and nothing changed in his life; he was still alone and moving from affair to affair with men that seemed to be getting more and more ill-assorted. Now, looking at wrinkles around Ambrose's blue eyes he wondered for a moment if they could have had something more. But it was a thing of the past, anyway.

"Martin, I would like to present you an Apprentice who is currently training under me", said Ambrose, gesturing at a young serious-looking young man. "Harry Potter".

Martin rose an eyebrow. That was quite a surprise, meet the British Hero face to face. The boy stared at him hard from behind round glasses, like he was demanding not to be judged by his name only. Scoresee grinned and shook his hand.

"I thought you will have enough of chasing the Dark Wizards for a lifetime, Mr. Potter", he said.

"I believe that now that I've got pretty good at it, would be a waste of energy beginning other career from the scratch", replied Potter cheekily.

"A wise decision", admitted Martin. "But let me warn you, our job is more about sticking to the rules than avoiding them and learning _that_ is actually the hardest part of it."

Potter frowned. "And what if one does not agree with some of the rules?"

"You are an Apprentice for… how long? Three months? And you already found something to disagree with?" Martin laughed. "You are a tough nut to crack, aren't you?"

"As the matter of the fact we both did", admitted Ambroise. "That is precisely why I brought Mr. Potter here. I hope you don't mind him being present here, I assure you he can keep the secret."

"I'm far from denying him participation in shaping the new world", answered Martin. "If there is a person who earned that right, it's you, Mr. Potter."

The young wizard actually looked pleasantly surprised. Martin wondered for a moment how many times he was denied just that but decided not to pry further. It wasn't really his business anyway. So he went with an explanation of what they were preparing to do. He tried to keep it as short as possible, Ambroise warned him that the time they had was scarce, as he and Mr. Potter were meant to be patrolling the Muggle streets right now.

"The international cooperation does not really cover the magical law enforcement sector. Wizarding consuls, diplomats and all the assorted boot-lickers love preparing business parties, playing galant hosts to each other, traveling around the world and generally having fun but when more serious matters needs resolving, they are at lost. Granted, in the last century many important commercial treaties were concluded and we agreed on common policies in regard to foreign workers. But Aurors, they were never encouraged to work together. We have no international strike forces that could deal with worldwide criminal organisations, no treaty that would ensure that once one country is in trouble, like yours was, others will help and we have no international court which could be the last resort to those who feel they were treated unjustly by their country. Those are things that Muggles have for many years now, Haga, NATO, for them it is obvious such things should exist. We are in Dark Ages comparing to them. With regard to crime and punishment every country acts as separate entity and no one can force it to act differently, but also no one is obliged to come to it's aid when it botch the things. This need resolving and we, Amercians, plan on doing it soon. The amiable way will be preferable, but I am afraid that if my bosses will find it impossible, they will be prepared to force it down each Ministry's throat. Beginning with yours, as you have the most anachronic crime law seen in all the Western Europe."

"Is that the warning issued to us, Martin?", asked Ambroise, frowning.

"Not from me, no.", Martin shook his head. "But my superiors went really mad at the mess you got us into. They are adamant that the situation does not happen again. But me, as well as a group of people that are not completely blinded by rage, sees that your lot is not going to follow our orders blindly. Forcing you to do anything, especially now, will be asking for war. So, I came to ask you how many of you are willing to face your Ministry to try to create an independent international organization?"

"And who will support us?"

"We will. American Aurors."

Ambroise frowned. There was indecision in his blue eyes and deep frown creased his brow. His expression was in stark contrast with that of Mr. Potter. He looked enthusiastic, his green eyes shining brightly, but he was a young person so it was normal he didn't understand the audacity of Martin's proposition. But the answer forthcoming from his old associate was far from encouraging.

"The way things stand, few will decide to go against their own Ministry, Martin. I know my colleagues well enough to know they don't want to change anything. They are too comfortable in their little world, the sheer suggestion of bending to the demands of others will make them angry. They believe themselves independent, they want no control."

"Aren't they controlled by their own Ministry?"

"Yes, but they are familiar with it. Additionally our forces have much more leeway than yours. Not so much regulations. They won't be giving up easily that freedom."

"You misunderstand us." Martin shook his head. "I believe we use a wider range of offensive spells than you do. Killing Curse was never forbidden. The difference is only we have to know when we can use each spell."

"This is what we call regulations.", Ambroise smiled, but it was a weak smile and quickly died. "No deal, Martin. I hoped you will come with some substantial idea how to pull off that revolution and revolution it will be, one way or other. Our folk will not follow yours only because you think it will make them much good in the large picture. I suggest you experiment first with other country, our is just too stubborn. It will end up in war, just as you said."

"You disagree with me?", asked Martin incredulously. He did not expect such a negative response.

"No, Martin. I am all thumbs up for the idea, just I cannot see how it is going to work. But if you come back with some brilliant plot, something worthy of a true Slytherin, I will help you, I swear."

Martin blinked in confusion. "Slytherin?"

"He means sneaky, sir", replied Potter, smiling.

* * *

Sneaky wasn't what Diana aimed to be. She decided on a direct approach, sure that she could make the Board see the reason if she just set herself for the task. So Thursday, six at the evening found her sitting on a hard bench outside the Board's meeting room. She wished she could barge inside but knew that by doing so she won't create much of an impression. So she waited to be called in and each passing minute she grew more and more annoyed.

Eventually after what seemed like hours she was asked inside. She entered and found herself be subjected to a whole set of mildly curious stares. It looked like they wondered whether she was allowed to play with the older children.

So she started with a long and passionated speech about what Ashla was feeling light right now and how making her participate in the Binding will not be accomplishing anything, only putting the poor dragon to ridicule. How she was fragile right now and if they truly wanted to help her keep the will to go on, they had to tread extremely carefully. How she needed time, much more time to be ready to face the world again.

The answer she was given made her face blanch and her lips say some choice words right to the faces of the Board. Words that left them angry. But she was angrier still.

They told her she knew nothing about the nature of a dragon. They told her off. A bunch of morons.

It left her staggering blindly through the stables. Right now she wanted no human company because human were seriously overscored, their minds flawed in a way they were not able to perceive uncomfortable truth. She wished none of their false compassion, not when it was coupled with the expression in their eyes that said clearly that she will never be their equal. All the Aurors behaved like that, even Dennis. They will never agree to a suggestion of a barkeeper, even if her reasoning was sound. They simply had to know better.

And now Ashla will suffer the consequences.

She was quite sure the stables were empty at that hour, she surely did not expect a gangly figure blocking her way. She nearly collided with him and stopped herself only by outstretching her hand which was promptly caught in a larger, calloused one. She backed immediately, freeing from his grasp, staring angrily into the set of black eyes, which were now widely opened in surprise. The surprise did not last long, giving way to an impressive scowl.

"What are you doing here, Death Eater?", she snapped.

"Working, obviously", he answered not amiably at all. "Any more inane question you plan on asking me, madame?"

"No, just piss off", she snapped and when he turned away to do just that she felt that she, in fact, had more questions. She pondered over them for the last few days. But the one which spilled forth was that of nasty kind, born from her anger and hatred for the world in total. "Wait! Yes, I do. Tell me, Death Eater, have you killed any of ours?"

He turned again and this time his face took on a kind of dangerous look that made her think of Dark Wizards. "What difference will it make if I did?", he asked.

"The difference some of them being my friends, my family", she said slowly. The cold was starting to get unbearable, it was seeping right into her heart. Or maybe it was pouring out of her? She wasn't sure anymore.

"People die in the war, Miss Gershaw", he said matter-of-factly.

She wasn't sure what had happened, but the next moment she was massaging her knuckles while he was backed up the wall, holding his right cheek. Her blow obviously didn't cause him much harm because quickly his hand dropped and he hissed through clenched teeth. "May I go now, Madam, or do you still need me as your punching bag?"

The anger did not abate. And there was also a strong wish, one to make at least one bloody person understand something. So she quickly came to a decision. "Come", she ordered him and when he did not move, she grabbed the front of his robe and pulled hard. That, at last, got him moving. "I want to show you something."

"You like being bossy, do you?", he asked snidely, tearing the material from her grasp.

"I do it for a living", she answered. She lead them through two sets of warded door into the secluded part of the stables.

"Look in here, Death Eater, and tell me what do you see."

The man moved with a purpose, like he could not be cowered or frightened by what he was about to experience. He put his hand on the rough wooden surface of the box and leaned in so his face was on the level with narrow slit through which the interior of the box was visible. He stood like this for a long, long moment and there was such stillness to him, that he could be taken for a part of the décor. Diana couldn't even hear him breathing.

Then, very slowly, he turned around. And, immediately, she felt uneasiness growing. This was not any of the reactions she expected. If she was true to herself, she had no bloody idea what was he thinking right now. His black as coal eyes glittered strangely in the face, that could have been called impassive if not for said eyes. And there was that impression like something was leaking out of him, and this something caused the very air around them to become heavy as lead.

"I see a dragon forfeit of its will to live", he said, his voice muffled, barely carrying in the suffocating atmosphere. "Why is that so?"

"Because she had lost her companion, Death Eater", Diana answered, stressing the 'she'. "Because she is a feeling creature who mourns death of Daniel Gershaw as much as his sister. " Diana rose her eyebrow in challenge. "That makes the difference, Death Eater."

Those cutting words were supposed to bring her some satisfaction and to make her gain an upper hand in this conversation. But she obtained neither. She felt more like she was climbing a very slippery slope where every step up brought her two steps down. He moved so he was in her personal space. He did not look remorseful but he wasn't laughing at her either.

"You are angry and this is understandable. You want to lash at someone. I am responsible for many atrocities. But I am not responsible for your tragedy, nor hers. Of course, this might not stop you from making me pay if you are a vindictive little bitch you are posing to be." He sneered lightly. "If so is the case, then I believe I am doomed. Just don't think you will be the first righteous to throw your stone at me, the line has got so long it's disappearing beyond the horizon."

He stayed still, apparently waiting for her verdict. Because he didn't seem inclined to do so, Diana stepped back from him. Her heart, for some reason, was hammering in the chest. "That is not what I want", she said, not sure if she wasn't lying.

"So tell me, what do you want from me, Miss Gershaw?", he asked. "Because I, for once, am at lost."

Diana swallowed. What was the right answer? She decided play neutral. "I wanted to make a point."

"What point? Miss Gershaw, you could not change my view of things by showing me some poor creature walling in her misery. What happened to us is called war for some reason."

"Of course!", she snapped. "That is what people such as you say, yes? To shake it off and continue with life? Well, you know where you could shove your opinions? Because it bloody hurts, and bloody scars…"

"And you are being bloody obvious", he snapped, losing the pretense of not caring. "Take your grief somewhere else, Miss Gershaw, it won't earn you my sympathy. And let me say this: The life shall continue, no matter your state of mind. Get over it or be left behind."

"Which group do you belong to?"

"That, Miss Gershaw, is a very personal question. And I, unlike you, am not inclined to share." He stared at her for a long time, frowning. "I cannot help you. Search for those who can."

She felt an ugly sneer appearing on her face, reflecting what was stirring inside her. "Well, let me tell you, I am surrounded by those who can't or won't because, despite being in the center of happenings, they have no understanding what is going on with Ashla. I rather thought that, being a caged animal yourself, you will recognize the abuse when faced with it."

"Faced with what? Don't talk riddles with me, Miss Gershaw. At least give me a proper explanation before jumping to conclusions about what I should or shouldn't be doing."

And that was why ten minutes later found them sitting on empty wooden crates, deep in conversation. Well, to tell the truth it was Diana who did most of the talking. She had to admit that she never had seen someone who was listening as intently as the man before her. He was like a greyhound trained on his prey and it was obvious that he was used to gathering information. And Diana… well, Diana soon understood that maybe that was exactly what she needed, talking to somebody from outside. This… well it felt refreshing, even if she kept in mind that this was a Death Eater she was talking to.

So she explained the emotional ties between a dragon and its rider, of course never once straying to the classified information about the very nature of the Bond. Then she talked about Ashla, about her and Daniel achievements and about dragon herself, albeit briefly, because she couldn't say much without hinting on the Bond. She described how Ashla behaved after Daniel's death and explained her status now and what she was expected to face in the near future. Diana's talk was rather dispassionate, but the man, Snape was his name, have already shown his lack of appreciation for drama. She ended with the story of her dealings with the Board.

"Their behavior is so typically Auror that I can't understand why you thought your little speech will earn their favor", he commented smirking lightly.

"Thank you so much for your opinion", she rolled her eyes. "So, are you feeling enlightened enough to answer my question from before?"

"Do I think your compatriots are abusing that she-dragon? Yes, I do. From what little portion of truth you told me and from what you omitted I understood that this creature is sentient and not exactly in a way ordinary dragons are. But Aurors treat her as she was nothing but a tool. And this angers you because them, as they have their own dragons, should know better. Am I right?"

She nodded, amazed at how easily he discerned that she was hiding things from him. Again she thought about what were his daily activities back in the days when he was working for Voldemort. This was a truly dangerous man in more than one way. She smiled internally because that type always fascinated her. Outwardly, she pinned him with the stare. She just had an idea and that idea may prove to be brilliant.

"Now tell me, smartass, is there any way out of this situation?"

He smirked. "How would I know, I am no one but a prisoner, a caged animal as you were so kind to call me. I hold no power in this place."

"It is not about power, because those who have it have also refused to help. It is about deceitfulness and I have a feeling that a criminal like you have more than a fair share of it."

He blinked. "A criminal like me does not do things without reward, as you should know."

"Not even out of compassion?"

"I am devoid of it, as I have already said."

"Well", she grinned, "You are hardly in a position to demand anything, are you? What could I say. Help her and you shall be helped too, Mister Severus Snape."

There was a long, calculating look in his dark eyes, like he was weighing up his options.

"Deal", he said.

* * *

_A/N: Comments appreciated. Really. I'm just a poor author. I even can't make any money from that so all I can count on is support of my readers._


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